


Lifelines

by cuttothequickk



Series: All Things Bright and Beautiful [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Kozume Kenma, Bisexual Yamaguchi Tadashi, Developing Relationship, Eating Disorders, Gray-Asexual/Gray-Aromantic Tsukishima Kei, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 51,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttothequickk/pseuds/cuttothequickk
Summary: They have always been headed down this trajectory.It takes them a while, but they get it together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Elaboration of trigger warnings: moderately explicit descriptions of self-harm, and repeated mentions of cutting/burning throughout. Eating disorders referenced but not described in extreme detail.
> 
> The internalized ableism is basically internalized stigma against neurodivergence, and it results in a refusal to get help for unhealthy coping mechanisms, which is sadly such a common problem, especially for teenagers (and is something I have witnessed firsthand and have experienced as well).
> 
> Please heed these warnings and keep in mind that this is only one interpretation/portrayal of things like non-suicidal self-injury and anorexia.

 

 

“Come on.”

 

“But Tsukki! It’s too cold! And I like it better when there are fireflies!”

 

Tsukki rolls his eyes. Tadashi purses his lips off to the side in a pout that sometimes actually works on Tsukki’s cold, icy heart.

 

Tsukki shakes his head. “Come on. We always look at the stars the night before school starts.”

 

“Yeah, because you always _drag me out there._ Really, I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Tadashi says, following dutifully as Tsukki drags him down the stairs by the wrist.

 

“Kei,” Tsukki’s mom calls from the kitchen, “Wear a coat if you’re going out! It’s a little bit cold!”

 

“See,” Tadashi says as they shrug into their coats. “Your mom understands.”

 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukki says.

 

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

 

It really is beautiful outside even if it’s cold; Tadashi can’t deny that. He does miss the presence of the fireflies that glow bright during August and early September, but that can’t be helped. Tsukki sits next to him, and Tadashi thinks, this is enough.

 

“Think we’ll be in the same class?” Tadashi asks. He doesn’t really want to talk about school, but he can’t help it. There’s this persistent fear in his chest, a compulsion to obsess over what will or will not come.

 

Tsukki shrugs. “How would I know?”

 

“We’re both in college prep, so we have a good chance, I think.”

 

Tsukki hums a little acknowledgment of Tadashi’s words, his chin tilted up towards the sky. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Tadashi with his head tipped against one of the beams that holds up the cover over the porch, his fingers twisting together the way they always do when he’s thinking hard about something.

 

“I’m scared,” Tadashi admits.

 

Tsukki turns to look at him, his blond hair bright in the starlight. His eyes aren’t visible because of the glare on his glasses, but Tadashi imagines that they’re probably narrowed, assessing. But then Tsukki sighs and turns his head just a little, and Tadashi can tell that Tsukki’s eyes are squinted not so much in judgment as in concern. “You’ll be fine without me. If we’re not in the same class.”

 

Tadashi lets his eyes flick closed. He’s tired. “It’ll be boring without you.”

 

Tsukki snorts a little. “Yeah, well, I’ll be terrible at English if you’re not there to help me.”

 

“You’re good at English.”

 

“Not as good as you.”

 

“Whatever, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, but he does feel a little better. “You wanna go to Family Mart and get some melon bread?”

 

Tsukki shakes his head. “No. But I’ll walk with you.”

 

Tadashi rolls his eyes. “You can get a pork bun or something. I’ll even buy it for you. I still have money left from New Year’s.”

 

Tsukki raises his eyebrows as they both stand up and brush off the backs of their pants. “Seriously? That was four months ago.”

 

Tadashi shrugs. “There wasn’t really anything I wanted to buy this year. I don’t know. You got me those books I wanted anyways, which I still totally owe you for.”

 

“It’ll all even out eventually.”

 

Tadashi’s chest warms at the thought of their friendship lasting so long that the money they spend on each other is ruled as equal regardless of the actual figure, whatever it may be. It’s nice when Tsukki says a sweet thing like that, even if the words sound dry and apathetic in Tsukki’s perpetually uninterested tone. Tadashi is used to the fact that this is the only way Tsukki knows how to show affection.

 

“We’ll be back in a minute,” Tsukki calls as they pull on their shoes at the front door.

 

“Okay, see you soon,” Tsukki’s mom calls. Tadashi hops on one foot to get his sneaker on, almost tipping into the shoe rack, and Tsukki grabs his arm to steady him, the motion so automatic that Tsukki isn’t even looking at Tadashi as he does it.

 

“Thanks, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, his shoe comfortably situated on his foot. He stands up normally, but Tsukki doesn’t let go yet, his hand tight around Tadashi’s wrist as he puts on his own shoes.

 

“Come on,” Tsukki says, and together they head out of the house.

 

“You still want to play volleyball in high school?” Tsukki asks as they walk down the street towards the Family Mart on the next corner.

 

Tsukki shrugs. “I guess.”

 

Tadashi smiles. “Remember when you found me freaking out outside the gym?”

 

Tsukki chuckles a little, the sound low and growling in his throat. “You going to cower outside the gym again tomorrow when we go sign up for the Karasuno team?”

 

Tadashi laughs and skips forward along the street. “Yeah, maybe!”

 

Tsukki snorts and taps him lightly across the back of the head. “You’re such a dork.”

 

Tadashi spins around a little, already feeling lighter even if he’s still nervous for tomorrow. “You know more things about dinosaurs than anyone I know.”

 

“I always forget you’re secretly mean,” Tsukki says, a tight frown across his lips, his eyebrows raised as he shakes his head like he’s disappointed. Tadashi leaps a step forward and turns around so he’s walking backwards in front of Tsukki.

 

“Between the two of us, I am definitely the nice one,” Tadashi insists, and then immediately trips over a rock. Tsukki grabs him for the second time that night, and Tadashi catches his balance with his hands on Tsukki’s shoulders.

 

“Walk like a normal person,” Tsukki commands, and Tadashi smiles so big his eyes close. He turns around and falls back into step beside Tsukki, his heart leaping in his chest because he’s content and suddenly sure that whatever happens at school the next day, it’ll be fine.

 

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he says.

 

“Stop apologizing,” Tsukki commands, but his voice is just warm enough for Tadashi to register the fond amusement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tadashi and Tsukki walk to school together the next morning like they have for the past four years, and they end up in the same class, and they even get to sit close to each other by some stroke of luck that has Tadashi biting his lip to hide a grin from their teacher when she announces the seating chart. From their seats, it’s easy for Tsukki to duck his head back and flash his smirk at Tadashi, and every time anyone says something dumb, Tadashi knows to look up and make the sort of wicked eye contact they’ve developed in the years of their friendship, the _we-are-totally-judging-you-and-only-we-know-it_ look that makes Tadashi feel like he’s flying. He knows some of his classmates from middle school, but he’s really only friends with Tsukki. They join the volleyball team, and Tadashi doesn’t even cower outside the gym.

 

“Do you think Shimizu-san gets sick of the second years drooling over her all the time?” Tadashi asks as they walk home at the end of their second week, both sweaty from the practice they’ve just endured. Tadashi’s pretty sure his ears are still ringing from all the yelling Kageyama and Hinata had done at each other, and he’s sure Tsukki is in a bad mood after sitting through the noise.

 

“Of course she’s sick of it. The second-years are a pain,” Tsukki says, his hands fidgeting with the seam of his shirt the way they always do when he’s annoyed.

 

Tadashi tips his head as he thinks about it. “I don’t know. It’s probably nice to know people like you, I think.”

 

Tsukki scoffs. “They don’t _like_ her, Yamaguchi. They objectify her. They don’t even know her.”

 

Tadashi frowns, honestly a little unsure why he’s pushing this. Still, he goes on: “Maybe they don’t know her well, but I think they genuinely care about her.”

 

Tsukki shrugs. “I don’t care. This is boring. Talk about something else or shut up, Yamaguchi.”

 

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, unhurt. From the look on his face, Tsukki is having some actual angst over something, even if Tadashi isn’t sure what. He’s lashing out because something is bothering him. It’s not exactly an unheard-of phenomenon with Tsukki.

 

“Did you listen to that album I sent you?” Tadashi asks instead, and Tsukki nods.

 

“Yeah. I liked most of it, except that rap one in the middle. It was too chaotic. I thought the next song on the album was the best.”

 

And this—well, this actually does kind of hurt Tadashi’s feelings, because “that rap one in the middle” happens to be his favorite song on the album. “Yeah, I kind of figured that one wouldn’t hit you the way it hit me,” he says, because it’s true.

 

Tsukki shrugs. “It was a good album. I actually liked most of it, except that one.”

 

Tadashi rolls his eyes. “Okay, whatever. We’re not friends anymore. I’m fighting with you.”

 

He’s kidding, and he makes it very obvious. Tsukki makes a little amused choking sound. “I just don’t want to listen to someone screaming into a microphone like he can’t decide whether he’s singing or rapping. It sounded sloppy, like it was just thrown together.”

 

This actually does kind of piss Tadashi off. “Okay, well, I thought the chaos of the song contributed to how good it was. It’s a song about heartbreak, Tsukki. He’s baring his soul to his first love. So, like, I’m sorry you haven’t ever experienced that, but—just thinking about it, I don’t know, it just hit really hard. But whatever. I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

 

“Have you experienced that? Heartbreak over your first love?”

 

Tadashi blows hair out of his face with an exaggerated huff. “Not…no. Okay, but I can put myself in his shoes. I’m not a robot. I have actual emotions.”

 

“Calm down, Yamaguchi. I’m just telling you my opinion.” Tsukki says it like Tadashi is five years old, like he’s a baby throwing a tantrum for no reason.

 

Tadashi scowls. “Okay, you know what, I was kind of joking earlier when I said we weren’t friends anymore, but now I’ve decided that I’m serious. We are actual-fighting now. I’m not talking to you.” He turns his head forcibly away from Tsukki, who keeps walking beside him like nothing has happened. Then again, their houses are both this direction, so it’s not like Tsukki is going to just walk away down an entirely different street.

 

After a minute of awkward silence, Tsukki clears his throat. “Do you want me to say I like the song?”

 

“ _No,_ ” Tadashi says. “You’re just—it was too emotional of a song. I don’t know. You’ve never gotten so upset about something that you fell to your knees _sobbing_ over it, I bet. You’ve never slept for, like, 36 hours because you couldn’t handle your life.”

 

“Have you done those things?”

 

Tadashi blushes and looks down, burying his face in his scarf. It’s still cold even though they’re already halfway through April. “Yes. You know that. I’ve cancelled us hanging out because of that. A couple of times.”

 

Tadashi risks a glance at Tsukki’s face. His eyebrows are furrowed behind the black frames of his glasses, like he’s really thinking about it. “Is that why? Because you were so upset you couldn’t get out of bed?”

 

Tadashi growls. “It’s not that I couldn’t. I just didn’t, okay?”

 

Tsukki looks at him. They’re almost at the corner where they normally part ways. “Okay. Well. Anyways, see you tomorrow. Meet here at 7:00 to walk to practice,” Tsukki says, and then he’s pulling his headphones on and walking off down his street. Tadashi stares after him for a moment and then turns to stomp off towards his house, still kind of mad.

 

He doesn’t talk to Tsukki that night, but the next day he’s over it, and they walk to school talking about why velociraptors are simultaneously the most underrated and the most overrated of all the dinosaurs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first month of school passes without a hitch. Finally it’s Saturday, and Tsukki and Tadashi have finished their homework for the weekend, and practice is done as well, leaving them bored but content in Tsukki’s room. Tadashi is lying on Tsukki’s bed like always, kind of spitefully playing that song Tsukki didn’t like through Tsukki’s own stolen headphones while Tsukki gets them a snack from the kitchen.

 

He comes back up after a couple of minutes holding a box of Pocky and a bag of 7-Eleven Castella cakes. “This is all we have. Unless you want to go to Family Mart.”

 

Tadashi shakes his head and reaches out a hand without pulling off the headphones or sitting up. “Castella cakes,” he says, and Tsukki deposits them in his hand without fanfare. Tsukki tears open the Pocky package as Tadashi pops a little Castella cake into his mouth, and finally Tadashi pushes the headphones off his ears and sits up, shaking hair out of his eyes.

 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Tadashi asks.

 

Tsukki shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve already tired ourselves out with volleyball this morning. We could just watch movies or something.”

 

Tadashi frowns. “Not _Jurassic Park_ again. And not documentaries.”

 

“Why not? There’s a new one that I saw advertised the other day; I think it was something about the ocean. You like the beach,” Tsukki says.

 

Tadashi rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I want to sit around for two hours staring at video of it.”

 

“It’s not a video of just the beach. There’s also information about what lives under the water, and the tides, too,” Tsukki says, his voice going a little higher the way it does when he’s whining. To anyone else, Tadashi is sure Tsukki sounds the same as always. But Tadashi has known Tsukki for going on five years now. He’s a pro at reading Tsukki’s tones.

 

“We can watch one documentary. But I have veto power if you choose a bad one,” Tadashi says, sitting up on Tsukki’s bed and popping another Castella cake into his mouth. “Here, do you want some of these?”

 

“Yeah, do you want the Pocky?”

 

They swap snacks while Tsukki browses through the documentaries on Netflix.

 

“Okay, this is annoying. All the interesting ones are in English,” Tsukki says after a couple minutes of scrolling.

 

Tadashi shrugs. “There are subtitles. It’ll be good practice.”

 

Tsukki’s nose goes up like he’s simultaneously disgusted and uninterested. “No. We can just watch one of your stupid superhero movies instead.”

 

Tadashi grins. “I want to watch them in the original English.”

 

Tsukki picks up a pillow and hits him across the back, a glancing blow at best even if it has Tadashi giggling and clutching at his chest in fake pain. He topples sideways onto the bed, laughing at his own overreaction, and when he looks up, all sprawled across the bed with Tsukki awkwardly visible between Tadashi’s wild-spread legs, Tsukki has a curious sort of expression on his face that Tadashi has never seen before, like the ghost of a smile mixed with the piercing gaze Tsukki gets when he’s really focused on something.

 

Tadashi shivers, his laugh dying in his throat.

 

“Tsukki?” Tadashi asks. He sits up, one leg dangling off the bed, the other tugged close to his chest. The space in between is reserved for the long line of Tsukki still sitting straight and tense in front of him.

 

There’s a moment where Tadashi realizes he’s going to fall backwards unless he leans in closer. He angles himself in to keep his balance, and Tsukki just stays where he is, looking. Hardly blinking, even. Tsukki’s hand goes out to grasp at Tadashi’s arm, steadying him as always. Tadashi’s heart pounds _hard._

 

“Tadashi,” Tsukki says, and he sounds shaky in a way that Tadashi for the life of him cannot wrap his head around. Why would Tsukki be nervous, or intimidated, or whatever he’s feeling that’s causing that little whine the escape the back of his throat when he says Tadashi’s name, his _real_ name, which Tsukki _never_ uses—

 

And then Tsukki seems to shake himself out of it.

 

“Why can’t your hair just _lie flat,_ god,” Tsukki says, bringing his hand up to ruffle his fingers through Tadashi’s cowlick, his chin tipping so he can see what he’s doing. Tadashi giggles at the sensation, his own chin dipping forward to allow Tsukki jurisdiction over the tangle of brown hair that won’t stay down.

 

“Jesus, you’re a mess,” Tsukki says, fond.

 

“You still haven’t picked a movie, Tsukki,” Tadashi shoots back, giggling as Tsukki pushes him away so he falls flat against the bed on his back again.

 

“Fine, we’ll watch one of the ones in English.”

 

“I’ll translate for you,” Tadashi offers.

 

“There are subtitles.”

 

“I said that at the very beginning of this argument!”

 

Tsukki sticks out his tongue, and Tadashi’s breath catches in his throat. He thinks nothing of it. It’s probably just allergies. It is the season for it, after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Tsukishima Kei sent a sticker. <bunny mad>_

_Tsukishima Kei:_ Why does this even exist?

_Yama-Tadashi:_ Aww, Tsukki-chan! It’s you!

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ No.

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ LINE is stupid. What is the point of all the stickers?

 

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ They’re just supposed to be cute, okay?

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ Chill

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ If you think one of them looks like me, then I guarantee it is not cute.

 

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ Plenty of girls think you’re cute, Tsukki!

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ Anyway, if you would stop scowling so much, I might think you were cute, too!

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ I’ve seen your baby pictures dude.

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ Do not call me “dude”.

 

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ But Tsukki-chan was okay?

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ PUT “Tsukki-chan” IN QUOTES, YOU HEATHEN.

 

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ Okay, Tsukki-chan.

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ I mean “Tsukki-chan”

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ I hate you and I know you know how punctuation works.

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ See you at the usual place tomorrow morning.

 

 _Yama-Tadashi:_ o(^▽^)o

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just as things have settled into a smooth rhythm, something has to happen to upset the status quo.

 

It’s a Tuesday morning. There’s nothing special about the weather or the slant of the sunlight or the cherry blossoms hanging pink and soft on the trees.

 

But when Tadashi comes up to the corner where he and Tsukki always meet, there’s a girl from their class talking to Tsukki with a big grin on her face. She’s short and cute, maybe named Kaori or Mika or something else girlish and pretty, and she’s twirling her hair around her finger in a gesture that looks like an invitation. Tsukki just looks bored, and kind of like he’s not sure what’s going on, and after a minute, the girl walks off with a smile and a wave.

 

“What was that about?” Tadashi asks as he approaches.

 

“She asked for my LINE,” Tsukki says.

 

Tadashi frowns. “Why?”

 

Tsukki shrugs. “I don’t know. She said she wanted help with English, so I told her you’re way better at it than I am. But she still said she wanted my LINE, not yours.”

 

It hits Tadashi then, hard, like a blow to the stomach, but he’s not sure why. “She likes you,” he says. “All the girls in class like you, don’t you know?”

 

Tsukki just jerks back a little bit. “They’re all a pain in the ass.”

 

Tadashi frowns. “You don’t want to date her?”

 

Tsukki looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Why would I want to trouble myself with helping someone I don’t even know with a language I’m not even that good at?”

 

Tadashi sighs. “She didn’t want you to help her with English, Tsukki.”

 

Tsukki tuts. “Whatever. It’s just a hassle. None of the girls knows anything.”

 

“Well, I’m not entirely sure about _that_ , but I’m sure they don’t know the difference between a pteranodon and a pterodactyl. How dare they, really.” The joke sounds weak even to his own ears, but Tsukki clicks his tongue in agreement.

 

“Exactly. Heathens, all of them.”

 

Tadashi laughs, turning his head to make eye contact with Tsukki. Tsukki’s hair is lit up gold in the early morning sunlight coming through the pink of the cherry trees, his glasses cutting sharp as the line of his jaw. There’s a flutter in the pit of Tadashi’s stomach as he and Tsukki make the same wicked expression at each other, and his breath catches in his throat, and he can’t help the bubbly giggle that pours from his throat as the bright morning turns Tsukki’s eyes the same vivid gold as his hair, Tsukki’s expression so full of camaraderie that Tadashi’s heart _pounds_.

 

It should be confusing, the unexpected rush of feeling, but it’s not. If anything, it just feels right, looking up at Tsukki with this unparalleled affection shooting hot through his veins. They’re 15, and it’s a Tuesday morning, and Tadashi wants to knock his lips clumsy and unpracticed into Tsukki’s, because he thinks that would be a very beautiful thing to do in the middle of the street at 8:00 a.m.

 

And—what?

 

“Anyway,” Tsukki says, “Relationships are stupid. Love isn’t real. It’s like people don’t know that it’s just biology trying to trick us into propagating the species.”

 

As fast as his blood had flared hot and champagne-fizzy, it goes cold on disappointment. “Haha,” he says. “Right, Tsukki.”

 

They’re rounding the gates of the school, and Tsukki is still lit gold by the sunlight, and Tadashi feels like he’s falling, crashing through the ground into the core of the earth. Tsukki shoots him a questioning look as they enter their classroom, obviously aware that something is off, but Tadashi just gives him a weak grin and settles into his chair. Tsukki hesitates before he sits down, but he doesn’t press, because class is about to start.

 

Tadashi buries the feelings, and by the end of the school day, he’s almost convinced himself he was imagining them. Almost.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thing is, Tadashi’s angst over Tsukki is really only a part of his collection of overall life struggles. Tadashi has always been a little bit high strung, mercurial and prone to crying over what he _knows_ is nothing, and Tsukki has always been good at chilling him out. But now that there’s this weird rush of _feelings_ for Tsukki that Tadashi is actively hiding, his best friend starts to become a hindrance rather than a help when Tadashi gets anxious.

 

And then there’s the whole volleyball thing.

 

Being part of the Karasuno volleyball team is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because Tadashi finds, to his surprise, people who actually like him, who boost him up instead of tearing him down, who help him fight his insecurities and who go out of their way to make him feel happy and at ease. Some days, when Tadashi nails his still-useless-for-its-inconsistency-but-maybe-getting-there jump float serve, he dances home like he’s walking on clouds, spinning around and rambling the whole way back while Tsukki watches on in fond skepticism. On these days, Tadashi will think that he is satisfied with what he has, that he is not in love with a boy who is his best friend or if he is it doesn’t matter, and Tadashi will fall asleep with a smile on his face if he can quiet his thoughts enough to fall asleep at all.

 

And yet.

 

For all the support and friendship Tadashi is experiencing for the first time in his life, he is suddenly thrust into a situation where he has a responsibility to his team, even though he is not the best player. He is maybe the worst player. He is the only first year who is not in the starting lineup.

 

There are days when Tadashi fucks everything up. Days when he can’t hit a single serve over the net, or where his thoughts go so uncontrollably anxious that he can’t focus enough to receive anything. He chokes in the match against Aoba Johsai and walks off the court in tears, putting on the face of someone who is undoubtedly upset but is Handling It.

 

Tadashi gets home and he is not handling it.

 

He can’t bring himself to eat dinner. His parents have gone out for the evening, so Tadashi is at the house by himself. He thinks about messaging Tsukki on LINE, but he doesn’t. He thinks he could fall asleep even though it’s only 6:00 p.m., but he can’t.

 

He gets in the shower and tugs hard at his hair while he washes it. He chews his lip so aggressively that it starts to bleed, and the taste of blood in his mouth makes him nauseated and lightheaded. He stares at his naked body in the mirror and sees stick-skinny arms and a stomach with a curve to it, thighs that are soft and round instead of muscled into tight, unyielding lines.

 

He only goes to Shimada the next day, after a sleepless night and a day spent staring listlessly at the wall. He’d claimed he’d felt sick when his mom had checked in on him, and it hadn’t really been a lie.

 

There’s a moment as Tadashi is walking to Shimada’s under the early summer stars when Tadashi wonders what the world would be like without him in it. If he could just disappear. If he were dead.

 

He’s not suicidal. He’s not. He’s just thinking about things from a logical point of view. Like, the point of view that says he isn’t needed on the volleyball team and he should just quit. The team. Not life.

 

Tadashi pushes the thoughts from his mind, and Shimada really does make him feel better.

 

But even if there are many days when Tadashi is spinning in joy like he’s got soda-pop for blood, there are plenty when he thinks, _what if I weren’t here right now, tomorrow, next year, ever again._ It’s like once he’s entertained the thought for the first time, it never really goes away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re all in the gym and it’s raining outside. Tsukki has been distant all day—all week, really, since they won the match against Shiratorizawa. Which is stupid, because Tsukki was the MVP, and yet the outcome has got him all silent and mean, angry all the time and hardly willing to speak to Tadashi at school let alone hang out with him after practice like they usually do.

 

Tadashi’s mood is falling as quickly as the raindrops as Tsukki shrugs off any sort of comfort Tadashi can extend. Tsukki doesn’t laugh when Noya-sempai hits Asahi-san in the face with the ball and then freaks out and flails so hard that he hits Asahi-san _again,_ which—okay, the lack of actual _laughter_ isn’t out of the ordinary, but Tsukki doesn’t even make a scathing comment for Tadashi to laugh at.

 

“I’ve seen five-year-olds with more motor control than Noya-sempai has right now,” Tadashi mutters as he kind of awkwardly edges his way towards Tsukki. Tsukki shoots him a look, maybe surprised but maybe just annoyed, or maybe he’s judging Tadashi himself for making such a weak jab at Nishinoya, or…

 

Tsukki takes a drink from his water bottle and hums some distant acknowledgment of Tadashi’s presence. It’s obvious that Tsukki doesn’t want to talk to Tadashi—doesn’t want to _have_ to talk to Tadashi, because Tadashi is being a burden with the way he’s been following Tsukki like a lost puppy since Tsukki got all quiet and weird after the Shiratorizawa match.

 

But then, in retrospect, Tadashi has been following Tsukki like a lost puppy since the day they met.

 

Tadashi opens his mouth to say something else to Tsukki, maybe to apologize, but Hinata saves him by bounding up with a big smile and asking Tadashi to help him with his serves.

 

“Mine aren’t much better than yours,” Tadashi says, eyeing Tsukki out of the corner of his eye. Tsukki looks awfully involved in checking that his water bottle is capped correctly.

 

Hinata laughs. “No way, Yamaguchi-kun! Your serves are, like, _fwahh!_ and _whabam!_ My serves are _terrible!_ ”

 

“Dumbass!” Kageyama calls from his position next to the net. “Use real words.”

 

“Hey!” Hinata sticks out his tongue. “Everyone knows what I meant!”

 

“That Yamaguchi’s serves are awesome and yours are horrific?”

 

“ _Bakageyama—_ ”

 

“Yamaguchi can hit the ball _well_ unlike _you—_ ”

 

“ENOUGH,” Coach Ukai finally yells, ending Kageyama and Hinata’s extremely loud and incredibly close exchange. They’re scowling at each other, Kageyama hunched over Hinata because he’s just so much taller than Karasuno’s second-tiniest player, and Tadashi suddenly feels strangely happy because he knows he’s witnessing something important.

 

It’s not like Tadashi doesn’t know that Hinata is kind of in love with Kageyama. Everyone knows that, just like they know that Asahi-san and Noya-sempai are going to take years to do it but they’re going to end up together eventually, and just like they know that Daichi-san and Suga go home together every day because they’ve been dating for three years and they’re never going to break up.

 

It suddenly strikes Tadashi that being in love with a boy is kind of great, actually.

 

Except.

Kageyama is obviously into Hinata too, so it’s only a matter of time for them. Asahi-san and Noya-sempai are a given as well. Daichi-san and Suga are basically already married.

 

Tsukki is scrolling through his phone and ignoring Tadashi with everything he’s got.

 

Tadashi picks up a ball and goes up to Kageyama and Hinata, who are still staring at each other like they can’t snap out of it.

 

“Hey, did you want some help with serves or not?”

 

Hinata manages to tear his gaze away from Kageyama to look up at Tadashi. “Okay!” He says it like it’s the best thing he’s ever had the opportunity to say, and Tadashi feels like even on this rainy day when Tsukki is avoiding him and everything feels disappointing in general, maybe Hinata’s light can radiate into him. From the way Kageyama is still looking at Hinata, the setter is probably thinking the same thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Tsukki, are you okay?”

 

Tsukki looks up from the magazine he’s flipping through, his long limbs drawing sharp lines across his bed, headphones around his neck.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be? Sit down, you look weird just standing there.”

 

Tadashi swallows and takes a seat on the floor. Their faces are almost level like this, with Tadashi sitting cross-legged and Tsukki stretched out on his stomach across his low futon. Tadashi summons all his courage before he speaks.

 

“You’ve just been weird lately. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

 

Tsukki stares, expression blank. “Everything is fine.”

 

And here’s the thing: Tsukki is honestly _so goddamn convincing._ Like, Tadashi really feels like maybe he’s being crazy for ever thinking anything was wrong, because Tsukki’s face is giving him _nothing_. Tsukki is a _great liar._

 

But.

 

Tadashi knows this, and he knows that Tsukki is, in fact, lying. Blatantly, and to his face.

 

It kind of hurts, but not nearly as much as the knowledge that something is wrong enough for Tsukki to hide it.

 

Tadashi bites his lip. “You want to go get a snack or something?”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

Tadashi shakes his head. “When was the last time you ate?” He asks. It’s hard to keep the words light, so they don’t sound so much like the challenge they are.

 

Tsukki sees right through him, as always. He scowls, flops over onto his back. “I don’t know, this morning. My mom made a big breakfast. That’s why I didn’t eat at lunch.”

 

At least Tsukki isn’t trying to lie about that. Of course, it would’ve been difficult what with the fact that Tadashi had been sitting right next to Tsukki all of lunch and had witnessed him picking awkwardly at the food on his tray without actually eating any of it.

 

Tadashi bites his lip. “Tsukki, what’s the matter? What’s going on with you?”

 

Tsukki rolls back over and sits up so he’s kind of towering over Tadashi. “What’s wrong with _me?_ What’s wrong with you? You’re the one who’s been acting all weird around me. You’ve been weird for a while now.” Tsukki looks so genuinely bothered by this statement that Tadashi feels his heart leap up to his throat. He _knows_ he’s been weird, because _obviously_ , he’s developed some strange crush on Tsukki, who’s his _best friend,_ but—well, right now, Tsukki’s wellbeing takes precedence over Tadashi’s stupid feelings, and Tadashi puts his foot down.

 

“Let’s go get food now, then,” he says, even though he’s not hungry. Tsukki splutters a little, but Tadashi is adamant as he clambers to his feet so he can claim the height advantage for once. “No. Come on. This is serious. Did you even eat breakfast?”

 

Tsukki looks taken aback by the sudden surge of frustration, and he looks like he’s going to argue, but then he hangs his head instead. “No. I ate some crackers last night for dinner. Before that, lunch yesterday.”

 

Tadashi feels his heart pound. People have made comments about Tsukki’s weird eating habits before, but there’s something not-right about what Tsukki has just admitted to, something that makes Tadashi kind of worried. He wants to tug Tsukki into his arms and hold him. He wants to cry into Tsukki’s shoulder and make Tsukki hold _him._

 

“Come on,” Tadashi says. “I’ll buy you some pork buns.”

 

Tsukki looks a little pale. “I can probably only eat one,” he says, voice soft.

 

Tadashi nods. “Okay. But we’ll get more for later, okay?”

 

Tsukki sighs, resigned. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

 

“We have school tomorrow.”

 

“Stay over anyway.”

 

Tadashi does, and Tsukki eats two whole pork buns for dinner and then a snack later, and Tadashi falls asleep in the spare futon on the floor and thinks about what it was like when they used to fall asleep in the same bed, the very bed Tsukki is asleep on above him, both of them children, so confident in the future before them.

 

Now it is the future, and everything is overwhelmingly difficult.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The year goes on, and Tsukki gradually gets out of whatever mood had overtaken him in the wake of the Spring High Qualifiers. He eats regularly and acts so normal that Tadashi honestly kind of forgets that anything out of the ordinary had ever happened.

 

But if Tsukki is fine, Tadashi is not. It’s stupid, Tadashi thinks, because there’s no real reason for any of what starts to happen. It’s all out of his control.

 

There’s a day when they’re lying on Tsukki’s bed together, sharing a pair of headphones and laughing about something so stupid that Tadashi knows he won’t even remember the joke later, and Tadashi feels like his heart could burst, or like he could fly if he jumped off the roof.

 

There’s a day when he’s sobbing on the bathroom floor because he accidentally saw Daichi-san and Suga share the cutest kiss, and he’d thought _why can’t I ever have that_ , and he goes home and finds a razor in his hands and tells himself he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he _shouldn’t._

 

There’s a day when everything feels so far away that he can hardly remember what happens at school or at practice or at his house after Tsukki has walked him all the way to his front door because he might not make it there on his own.

 

There’s a day when he can’t stop smiling all day, his expression blissed out and silly and everything sparkling, beautiful, so beautiful he can barely put a sentence together.

 

There’s a day where everything terrifies him for no reason, and he spends the day cowering behind Tsukki and trying not to jump out of his skin at every word that’s said to him, at every gesture of concern and kindness both.

 

And then there’s the day it happens for The First Time.

 

Tadashi has a bad day at school, even though he gets a test back with the third-highest score in the class and hits a near-perfect jump float serve at practice. Those things don’t matter, not with the anxiety and _anger_ screaming from him when Tsukki spends the day completely ignoring him, the blond’s focus caught on Hinata all day which is _weird,_ and what the fuck is going _on,_ and why is Tadashi suddenly jealous of one his _best friends_ for getting some attention from his number one best friend?

 

Tadashi goes home quickly after practice, leaving the locker room before anyone else has even filtered out of the gym. He doesn’t miss the calculating glance Tsukki throws his way as Tadashi rushes out without him, but Tsukki makes no move to stop him. Tsukki only ducks his head, cheeks stained red as Hinata ruffles his hair.

 

What the fuck.

 

_What the fuck._

 

When Tadashi gets home, his parents are out. He’s shaking, and everything feels so wildly out of his control, like the things that should make him feel proud just feel so pointless and inane that he wants to tear all of it down _._

 

And there’s that stupid test glaring up at him, reminding him of the trajectory of his life, the somewhat-above-average-yet-entirely-worthless quality of it that has him thinking he would trade it all for one day as Hinata, because Hinata is literal sunshine and has all the love his heart can possibly stand, and he gives it out like candy and receives it back tenfold, even from _Kageyama_ , and then there’s Tadashi, whose test scores and English prowess and occasional skill at serving mean absolutely _nothing._ Tadashi is the minor character; Hinata is the protagonist. It’s no wonder that even Tsukki’s attention gets captured by that fiery orange hair, the smile that never seems to disappear or even waver.

 

Tadashi burns the test over the toilet. It doesn’t make him feel better. The bathroom smells like smoke, even after Tadashi has opened the window.

 

There’s this sort of crystal clear numbness that spreads over him, then, as he stares down at the sink, eyes roving over his toothbrush, his toothpaste, the bag of little individual flossers him mom always buys. He doesn’t share a bathroom with his parents because they have one in their bedroom, so everything that is here is his.

 

Everything except the worn-out blue toothbrush sitting next to the medicine cabinet. That one is Tsukki’s. It hasn’t been used in weeks. Somehow, that’s the thing that has Tadashi steeling his nerves and pulling out the disposable razor he has in a drawer.

 

It takes several tries to get the blades apart. Tadashi thinks back to the other times he’s done this, or _almost_ done this, because he’s never gotten this far before. _It’s a good thing_ , he had thought in the past, _that I’m apparently not smart enough to disassemble a razor_.

 

This time, he pulls and pulls until it snaps.

 

It turns out razors from a shaver are really tiny, which makes sense once Tadashi thinks about it. They’re kind of dull, and he doesn’t bother cleaning them because he’s never had any scrape or cut get infected in his life, and he can’t bring himself to care. He brings the razor to his wrist and then pauses. Wrists are dangerous. Easier to cut too deep. Harder to keep hidden.

 

Tadashi sighs and brings the blade to his ankle instead. It’s difficult to override the mechanism in his brain that’s saying _wait, stop, why is this happening, no, you can’t hurt yourself on purpose, this is against, like, every biological imperative there is!_

 

Tadashi pushes against that barrier until it breaks.

 

And then he’s got a short, sharp line of red breaking thin across his skin, low enough to be hidden by his socks. The world still feels distant, but Tadashi’s breath comes easier.

 

He hides the blades in his school bag and resolves to throw it away in a public trash receptacle tomorrow. He doesn’t want to risk his parents finding any evidence.

 

And anyway, it’s not like this is something that ever needs to happen again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re two weeks away from winter break when it happens.

 

“You’re overreacting,” Tsukki snaps as tears stream down Tadashi’s face. “You’re overreacting and it’s pissing me off.”

 

Even Noya-sempai reels back like Tsukki has said something unforgiveable. Tadashi is still crying, and clutching the volleyball, and there’s snot dripping from his nose.

 

“What the—what happened?” Kageyama asks as he and Hinata come running over. The five of them are the only ones in the gym, and it’s dark outside the propped-open doors leading to the back of the school. Hinata is rushing at Tadashi with his arms outstretched like he’s aiming for a hug, but he stops short when Tadashi collapses to his knees and drops the volleyball to hold his hands out above his head because he _cannot be touched right now._ He just can’t.

 

“Yamaguchi?” Hinata asks, falling to his knees in front of Tadashi. Tadashi shuts his eyes and crosses his arms over his face, sobbing.

 

“What the fuck,” Kageyama says. Tadashi keeps his eyes closed and listens.

 

“Yamaguchi kept missing his serves. Tsukishima told him he wasn’t focused enough, and then I ran to the club room to check my phone and came back to this,” Noya-sempai explains. Tadashi shudders a little and opens his eyes to look at Hinata, who is still staring back with his hands up like he wants to touch but knows not to.

 

“He’s been acting like this for weeks,” Tsukki says, his voice still all disgusted, like he’s tasting sour milk.

 

“And your solution was to yell at him?” Noya-sempai says.

 

“Shut up,” Tsukki snaps. “He needs to stop whining. He’s the one who’s always yelling at me to be motivated and have some pride, but right now he’s throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old. You expect me to be all coddling and nice or something?”

 

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , you’re a dick,” Noya-sempai says. “Yamaguchi-kun, why are you even friends with him?”

 

Tadashi isn’t about to respond, couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to with the way he’s still crying, and he’s breathing harsher now as Tsukki snaps another comment designed to cut to the bone. Noya barks something back, and then Kageyama yells at both of them, and Tadashi can’t get enough air and he’s choking, he’s falling apart, he’s—

 

“ _Tadashi,_ ” Hinata is saying, and he’s got his hands around Tadashi’s wrists now, and he’s dragging Tadashi’s sharp fingernails away from where Tadashi had apparently been tearing skin off his lips without even realizing it. Tadashi coughs as he tries to inhale and then collapses into Hinata’s lap, his knees aching against the hard floor of the gym, the lights too bright and the yelling too loud.

 

“Shut up,” Hinata is saying, and Tadashi tries to quiet down, but then Hinata says it again, louder, and Tadashi realizes that it’s not being aimed at him. “Kageyama, Noya, Tsukki, be _quiet._ ”

 

Somehow, it works. The chorus of voices cuts off, and Tadashi feels better as soon as it’s quiet, the rustle of the breeze through the leaves outside the only real noise aside from Tadashi’s own sniffling.

 

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” Hinata says. His voice sounds all distant and far away, and Tadashi feels like he’s floating off the planet entirely.

 

“What do we do? Is there some way to help him calm down?” That’s Kageyama, Tadashi realizes, and he’s surprised to hear the socially awkward setter making an effort to help him.

 

“I don’t know,” Hinata says. “Maybe we could just be quiet?”

 

Tadashi curls himself tighter into Hinata’s tiny lap, his face pressed to Hinata’s stomach.

 

“He’s fine,” Tsukki says, his voice still harsh but less disgusted now, less weird and curdled-sounding.

 

“Tsukki is just afraid, Tadashi-kun,” Hinata whispers into Tadashi’s hair. “Because you’re hurting.”

 

Tadashi lets out a terrified little sound and buries his face deeper into Hinata, trembling everywhere. He feels like he might throw up or pass out, and he moans low in his throat and chews at his lip, the pain grounding him. He thinks of the healing marks on the insides of his thighs; there aren’t many, because Tadashi isn’t suicidal, he _isn’t_ , and he’s not, like, regularly cutting. He’s not. There are only, like, six marks right now.

 

But then Tsukki’s voice echoes through his head, the words from only a few minutes prior tumbling around and saying _why are you so useless? You have to focus. You’re always spacing out. Stop staring off into space. Yamaguchi? Focus and you’ll stop acting so useless. Useless. Useless._

 

Useless.

 

Tadashi feels the moment the panic deserts him, giving way to the deepest despair he has ever felt in his life, maybe. It’s not the apathy that drags a razor across his skin when he’s overwhelmed and yet completely detached from everything at the same time (because yeah, after the first time, that keeps happening despite Tadashi’s best efforts). It’s not the fear that had wrapped around him when he’d missed the serve in the Aoba Johsai match. It’s not the desperation that clutches at his heart in the middle of the night sometimes when he reads some cute issue of a manga he likes and thinks about the main characters being in love and realizes that what happens to those characters won’t ever happen to him, not ever.

 

The sorrow Tadashi feels is the entire weight of existence resting heavy upon his shoulders, a rainstorm inside his chest making him cry this raw sort of sobbing that isn’t violent or even loud. There is only sorrow in him, his tears heavy like each one is the apology he feels just for being on the planet, for letting down his team, for failing Tsukki. For making Tsukki sound so disgusted and sick.

 

“Tadashi-kun, come on. I’ll help you get home,” Hinata says, once the tears have died down a little and Tadashi is left shaken on the floor of the gym. When he lifts his head, he and Hinata are the only two people in the gym.

 

Tadashi shakes his head. “I’ll be okay.”

 

“No,” Hinata says. “No. I’ll walk you.”

 

Tadashi wants to protest, but it feels like too much effort, and Hinata is like the sun on the long walk home even though it’s nighttime already. Hinata leaves Tadashi on the doorstep with a grin and a wave and a promise to message him as soon as he gets home, and Tadashi goes inside and falls asleep straight away.

 

When he sees Tsukki the next day, Tsukki nods him hello, and says nothing on the long walk to school. There’s awkward silence between them all through lunch. Finally, in the last minute before class resumes, Tsukki clears his throat.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, quiet and obviously uncomfortable.

 

Tadashi swallows. “It’s okay, Tsukki.” He thinks about what Hinata had said in the midst of Tadashi’s panic, that Tsukki was just afraid. It’s a weird thought to entertain, Tsukki being scared because of Tadashi freaking out, but it brings a sort of soothing, gentle warmth to his chest. Tsukki keeps standing in front of Tadashi’s desk, posture a little more slumped than usual, and Tadashi forces a grin. “Really, Tsukki. I’m sorry, too.”

 

Tsukki shakes his head, the motion harsh as everything always is with him. “Stop. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

 

The teacher calls for class to start again, and Tsukki returns to his seat. Later, when one of the boys in the class answers some easy science question wrong, Tsukki shoots an amused look at Tadashi.

 

Tadashi bites his lip and returns the look. Everything is fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The two weeks leading up to winter break pass quickly, and on Friday after the last day of school before their two weeks off, Tsukki and Tadashi walk home together like always. It’s a normal Friday, and all day Tsukki has been familiarly harsh but still friendly, like he’s on Tadashi’s side again when it hasn’t felt like that in weeks, maybe months.

 

“So anyways, _that’s_ why I really like the song even though they never released a Japanese version,” Tadashi says, because Tsukki likes music enough that he’ll listen to Tadashi talk about his own music preferences even if they don’t really share their tastes. “I mean, I’ve been thinking I could start studying Korean, just because there are, like, so many K-Pop songs that are really good but never get released in Japanese, and like—” Tadashi cuts off as they reach the spot where they always turn off for their respective houses. “Okay, anyways, goodbye, Tsukki!”

 

Tsukki grabs the sleeve of Tadashi’s uniform. “Come hang out,” he says, a request and not a command, but also not a question.

 

Tadashi is surprised. It’s been a few weeks since they’d last hung out, and it had been strangely quiet between them, a little awkward even.

 

Probably because Tadashi had spent the whole time trying not to just curl himself into Tsukki’s lap and disappear from the world for a while.

 

Tadashi sucks in a breath and swallows. “Okay,” he says, because he can never and will never refuse to give over anything Tsukki needs from him.

 

Tsukki’s bedroom looks the same way it had the last time Tadashi had been there. The curtains are open and the overcast sky is visible beyond the trees that arch up near the glass, their leaves long gone. It’s almost New Year’s, and Tadashi wonders if Tsukki will be going to his grandparents’ house in Sapporo the way he usually does. Tadashi hasn’t asked because things have been so weird, but now he does.

 

“What are you doing on New Year’s? Going to Sapporo?”

 

Tsukki shrugs. “Probably. Were you finished with whatever you were saying about that K-Pop group?”

 

Tadashi thinks about it, surprised Tsukki even remembers that they were ever having that conversation. “Yeah, I guess. Just that I might start learning Korean.”

 

“You’re going to learn Korean just because you like K-Pop.”

 

Tadashi shrugs, pulling off his uniform jacket and getting his homework out of his backpack. “I guess. I just want to be able to read the alphabet so I can sing the phonemes correctly.”

 

Tsukki snorts. “Phonemes.”

 

“What? Like you don’t speak in your own esoteric lexicon that we plebeians struggle to parse.”

 

Tsukki snorts. “Shut up. You’re better than I am at English _and_ Japanese, probably. Everyone else in our class is too distracted by drama and sex to even pay attention. Did you hear Matsuura today when he was trying to answer that question about Edo paintings?”

 

Tadashi bursts out laughing, collapsing against the low table in the middle of Tsukki’s bedroom floor as Tsukki gives him an amused grin, so genuine it makes Tadashi’s heart soar.

 

“So anyways. You’re going to learn Korean.”

 

Tadashi shrugs. “I’m good at English, so I figure I’ll be okay at Korean, probably.”

 

Tsukki shrugs. “You’re good at everything when you try. I’m sure you won’t have trouble.”

 

“I’m having trouble with these differential equations right now.”

 

“They wouldn’t be so terrible if they weren’t so boring, you know?”

 

Tadashi looks at Tsukki and thinks, yeah, I’m looking at my best friend the way Hinata looks at Kageyama. The way Asahi-san looks at Noya-sempai. The way Suga looks at Daichi-san.

 

Tsukki just sits there and looks back for a second before he glances away.

 

“Do you ever think about what it’s like to be in love?” Tadashi asks, really more an idle musing than an actual question.

 

“This again?”

 

“What? Have I asked that question before?”

 

Tsukki shrugs. “No. You just keep bringing things up that have to do with it. The music you talk about, and stuff. We’re only 16. Relationships are stupid.”

 

It’s not as if Tadashi has never heard this particular grievance from Tsukki before. Maybe Tadashi _has_ been bringing this up too much. But something still makes him push. “Maybe it’s not stupid. Suga and Daichi-san—”

 

“Are 18 and will never last through university.”

 

“You don’t know that. I think if anyone has the chance to stay happy and in love forever, it’s them. Just because we’re young doesn’t mean that what we feel isn’t real.”

 

Tsukki stares at him. “So who is it then?”

 

Tadashi frowns. “What?”

 

“The person you think you’re in love with.”

 

Everything feels frozen, like Tadashi has become one with the snow falling heavy outside Tsukki’s window. He wishes he could melt away into a puddle on Tsukki’s floor. He wishes he hadn’t said anything.

 

“It’s…there isn’t anyone,” Tadashi says.

 

Tsukki studies him. “But you’ve had a crush before.”

 

Tadashi bites his lip. “Yeah, but I’ve always told you about that. Remember second year of middle school when I was super into Fujisawa Shiori? Oh, and that girl we met at the park that day last summer, what was her name? Haruhi? Haruka?”

 

Tsukki growls a little. “If you can’t even remember her name, you obviously didn’t actually have a thing for her.”

 

Tadashi’s eyebrows knit together, his eyes going narrow. “It’s not like I thought I was going to marry those girls or anything. I’m not even—it’s not—I’m talking about what Daichi-san and Suga have. Or, like, Asahi-san and Noya-sempai.”

 

“They’re not together.”

 

“They’re going to be.”

 

Tsukki scoffs. “Yeah, maybe in the next lifetime or something. They’re dumber than rocks.”

 

“So you _do_ think they belong together.”

 

“I didn’t say that. Don’t twist my words, Yamaguchi.”

 

Tadashi sighs, suddenly feeling like he might cry. “Look, I was just musing on what it would be like to be in love, okay. I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

 

Tsukki’s expression is set, shut down the way it sometimes gets when he loses his motivation during a game or at practice. “Yeah. I don’t want to fight either. Let’s not talk about this.”

 

“Let’s not,” Tadashi says, and they both go back to their math homework.

 

But everything in the air feels wrong, and when it gets late, Tadashi goes home even though they had intended to have a sleep over.

 

Tsukki doesn’t ask him to stay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tsukki does end up going to Hokkaido for New Year’s, so they don’t see each other during the break. They do send each other the customary New Year’s texts, even if Tsukki only sends a formal “I hope you had a nice New Year’s” instead of the casual “HNY” they’ve been exchanging for the past three years. It’s January and school is starting again before Tadashi knows it, and even if he and Tsukki still walk to school together in the mornings, it feels kind of like Tsukki is uninterested in pursuing their friendship all of a sudden, or, even, in creating conversation. Tadashi goes home alone after practice, every time hoping Tsukki will say they should hang out like they used to. Now, Tadashi is lucky if Tsukki takes off his headphones when they walk part of the way home together.

 

Tadashi stares at himself in the mirror and thinks about whether Tsukki would like him better if he had breasts. If he had a tapered waist and were shorter and didn’t have freckles, or could at least wear makeup to cover them up. Then he thinks about whether Tsukki would like him better if he had a more angular cut to his body than the softness that still clings to his belly, his thighs. Tadashi is thin, but he isn’t stick-skinny like he was as a kid, like the girls in their class who still flirt with Tsukki all the time and confess to him at least once a week. He thinks about that guy from Nekoma, Kuroo, the one who seemed like maybe he had a thing for Tsukki. Kuroo is tall and powerful, bigger even than Tsukki. Maybe that’s what Tsukki wants in a partner. Tadashi cannot be that, because he isn’t tall and confident and smooth. Tadashi is just average, it seems, in every way.

 

He has to be better. He practices his serves and genuinely improves them. He goes a whole month without cutting himself, and slips up on a really bad day, and then goes another three weeks without doing it and is proud.

 

Tadashi knows the team can tell something is off, but no one says anything until a day in late February. It’s cold in Sendai, and Tadashi is shivering as he walks up to the club room a good 30 minutes early to practice. He’s curious as he approaches because there’s a chorus of hushed giggles and whispers coming from the room, and when he walks inside to investigate, Tanaka and Noya-sempai are arguing in hushed tones and digging around in someone’s duffle bag.

 

“Tanaka? Noya-sempai? What are you doing?” Tadashi asks. It’s been a fairly normal day, and Tadashi’s mood isn’t great but it isn’t terrible. He’s a little worried about practice, actually, because he’s sure his performance will make or break his emotions for the rest of the day, and maybe tomorrow, too.

 

But Tanaka and Noya-sempai are flinching at the sound of Tadashi’s voice, and it’s easy to get distracted when they whirl around, something clutched in Tanaka’s hand, and then let out twin sighs of relief.

 

“Jesus, you scared us, Yamaguchi,” Noya-sempai says, grinning. “But you won’t tell on us, will you?”

 

Tadashi raises an eyebrow. “Tell on you for what?”

 

Tanaka looks at Noya-sempai, who shrugs at his best friend and jerks his head towards Tadashi. Noya-sempai tilts his own head like he’s thinking, and then he nods.

 

Tanaka turns to face Tadashi, a serious look on his face. “This,” he says, holding up his hand, which has a little box in it that can only be a pack of cigarettes. Tadashi raises an eyebrow and suppresses a smirk.

 

“Yep,” Tadashi deadpans, “I’m definitely going to tell on you.” He giggles a little, and Tanaka and Noya-sempai stare at him for a brief second before they both start laughing.

 

“Picking up on Tsukishima’s sarcasm, I see,” Tanaka says, shooting a pointed look at Noya-sempai, who shrugs. Tadashi feels like he’s missing something, but then he’s sure that everyone feels like that when faced with the extremity of best-friendship between Tanaka and Nishinoya. There’s a pause, and then Tanaka grins and holds the box forward. “So, you want one?”

 

Tadashi actually recoils a little. Not because he doesn’t want one, because honestly he has always been curious, but more because he hadn’t ever really thought he’d be offered the chance to try.

 

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, because he’s 16 and he’s allowed to be stupid, and something about the whole situation is making him feel warm and accepted.

 

That’s how Tadashi finds himself coughing out smoke in the cluster of trees behind the school before volleyball practice, the air fucking _freezing_ and Tadashi’s nose turning pink as he learns how to smoke a cigarette without choking. There’s something appealing in the elegance of it, the technique you have to master before it works, the delicacy of holding death in your hands so casually as you invite it into your life and lungs. Tadashi is in love. He thinks he’ll have to be careful or else he’ll end up an addict before he hits 17.

 

“You okay, Yamaguchi? Be careful or you’ll feel sick,” Tanaka says.

 

Tadashi nods. “Okay. Thanks.”

 

Noya-sempai is the one who finally clears his throat, exhales a cloud of smoke, and looks at Tadashi with a serious expression on his normally irreverent lips. “Yamaguchi, what’s been up with you recently?”

 

Tadashi furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

 

“We beat Shiratorizawa. We’re about to go to nationals. _Nationals._ And yet, Tsukishima is still being all weird and serious all the time, like worse than usual, and I never see him eat, like, _ever,_ and you’re always coming to practice looking like you haven’t slept in days, or else you’re flying all over the place like you’ve got more energy than _Hinata,_ which is really saying something, and like—”

 

“Yuu,” Tanaka says, softly, as he crushes his cigarette out in the inch of snow on the ground.

 

Noya-sempai pauses to take a breath. “Sorry. Look. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And Tsukishima too. Because we need you guys to be at your best once the tournament starts, and if I have to fix whatever problem you and Tsukishima are having myself, I swear to god I will _._ I will do whatever it takes to help you.”

 

Tadashi is honestly a little bit stunned by Nishinoya’s sudden display of friendship and solidarity. _I’m in love with my best friend,_ he thinks. _My best friend who beats himself up over stupid things and needs to eat more and is serious and sad all the time now._

 

 _And,_ he thinks, _I’m a mess for no reason._ And it’s kind of true, and kind of not true, because Tadashi is Handling It and also Not Handling It, and so yeah. It’s kind of all a mess.

 

Tadashi takes a long drag of his cigarette and doesn’t cough at all as the smoke settles in his lungs. “Everything is okay. Just homework stress and stuff.”

 

Noya-sempai and Tanaka don’t seem convinced, but they don’t push. They finish their cigarettes in silence, and then they trudge back to the school for practice, and if Tsukki smells the smoke on Tadashi’s clothes or in his hair, he doesn’t say anything about it.

 

Tadashi can’t figure out why that hurts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a morning when Tadashi feels brave.

 

“Tsukki, are we ever going to talk about this? Are we ever going to talk again?”

 

They’re walking to school, and it’s Friday, and Tadashi can’t wait for school to be over so he can hopefully get some sleep. He’s been doing better with everything, recently, his mood-swings less dramatic and maybe it’s really just a hormonal thing, a phase even, which—okay, Tadashi _knows_ it’s bad to say that self-harm is just a phase but, like, he’s just _fine_ , so really, it probably is a phase. He hasn’t done it in a month. They’re going to nationals next weekend.

 

Tsukki looks down at Tadashi, his eyes wide in genuine surprise. Tadashi feels a shock of nerves, but he doesn’t blink. He has to be strong.

 

“We talk,” Tsukki says, but even he looks like he knows this is an exaggeration at best.

 

Tadashi shakes his head. “No. You’re my best friend. You should talk to me, or else we won’t be best friends anymore, and I don’t want that.”

 

Tsukki scoffs, but it really doesn’t sound mean. “ _I_ should talk to _you?_ Okay, Yamaguchi. Whatever you say.”

 

Tadashi frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

Tsukki looks resolved all of a sudden, his shoulders tense and his mouth moving like he’s going to say something important. But then all the fight goes out of him, and he turns forward and sighs. “You haven’t come over in a while.”

 

“You never want me to come over.”

 

“You can come over today after school,” Tsukki says. “You can sleep over if you want.”

 

Tadashi thinks of the red lines on his ankles, and now also on his thighs. He can’t change in front of Tsukki anymore, and he’ll have to be careful that his pajamas don’t slip up around the bottoms.

 

Still, he thinks, fuck it. He can figure out a way to change in the bathroom. Tsukki doesn’t need to know.

 

“Okay,” Tadashi says. “I’ll text my mom and tell her.”

 

“Okay,” Tsukki says.

 

And just like that, things are back to normal.

 

But that night as Tadashi falls asleep on the guest futon on the floor of Tsukki’s bedroom, he thinks, yeah. If there’s one thing Tsukki and Tadashi still share, it’s their talent for avoidance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No one expects Karasuno to win nationals, except probably Hinata and maybe Kageyama, although Kageyama definitely won’t admit his faith in his team even if he does believe.

 

But it doesn’t matter. They don’t win.

 

It’s a shockingly boring loss, really. They really did try their best, and they had good moments. They can and will come back stronger next year, even if it will be without Suga and Daichi-san and Asahi-san. They will do better. Tadashi is, shockingly, not that sad.

 

The end of the school year comes quickly, and second year starts kind of out of nowhere. It’s sad to see the third years leaving, but Tanaka and Nishinoya and the other ex-second years have enough energy to make up for the loss even if they’re hardly as responsible as Suga and Asahi-san and Daichi-san.

 

In fact, Tadashi realizes, they’re basically the antithesis of responsibility what with the way they sneak cigarettes (usually with Tadashi in tow) in the cluster of trees behind the school and the fact that they’re constantly trying to organize parties, which always end up getting thwarted at the last minute because deep down, Tanaka and Noya-sempai are not as clever as they think they are.

 

Tsukki and Tadashi go on as they always have. There’s a tension between them for a while, but they’re both so determined to ignore it that its existence is eventually rendered moot by sheer force of will. They can hold a conversation without freezing up. Tsukki makes jokes and Tadashi laughs at them. Tadashi makes jokes and Tsukki scoffs, which is the closest he comes to laughing. Tadashi goes three months without cutting, even gets rid of the razor for the fifth or sixth time. Everything is fine.

 

It’s early June, and Tadashi is sitting with Tsukki outside the school picking at the grass and waiting for practice to start.

 

“Tsukki, there’s a leaf in your hair,” Tadashi says, and reaches out to brush it away. An electric shock shoots through him at the contact, but Tadashi is used to that by now, and has given up on it so thoroughly that it hardly even registers.

 

“Oh. Thanks,” Tsukki says, a little awkward hunch in his shoulders. He takes a sip from the water bottle he’s holding. “You know,” he says after he swallows, “We should hang out more once it’s summer break. We’ll have time.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, okay, Tsukki.”

 

“I—you’ve been,” Tsukki starts, and then he stops, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

 

“What?”

 

Tsukki looks at him, hard, like he’s trying to memorize Tadashi’s face or something. His hand twitches towards Tadashi’s smooth, pale wrist, but he doesn’t touch. He never touches Tadashi anymore.

 

“Nothing,” Tsukki says after a minute. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

 

“Okay, Tsukki,” Tadashi says.

 

The near-summer day stays beautiful around them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then it’s July. They get a whole month off from mid-July to mid-August, and Tadashi is so happy his heart could burst. It’s summer, and things have been good for a long few months. Tadashi has a lot of good days, and Tsukki seems good too, although Tadashi still kind of wonders what was going on during the winter and early spring, when everything had seemed so dire there for a while.

 

A week into summer break, word goes around that Tanaka’s parents are going out of town and there will be a Real Opportunity for Mischief while they’re gone. That’s how they end up at the party.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says, or slurs really, wow, it’s almost a moan, shit, he’s kind of—

 

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukki says, leaning his shoulder in against Tadashi’s, and _oh,_ that’s nice, having something solid to keep him up when he’s—

 

“Tsukki, I think I’m drunk.”

 

Tsukki looks down his nose at Tadashi pressed all along his side, chin resting on Tsukki’s shoulder, and raises both eyebrows. “Yeah, no shit.”

 

Tadashi erupts into a peal of giggles. “Tsukki,” he says. “Tsukki, Tsukki.” After the third repetition, he starts to hum, because he’s got a song stuck in his head, which one was it? It’s not in Japanese, he thinks, and tries to remember the words, and fails.

 

“The ball, the net, and the referee,” Tanaka says, and Tadashi giggles all over again, harder.

 

“What the _actual fuck,_ Ryuu,” Noya-sempai asks. “You’re supposed to say _people._ I _know_ you know how this game works!”

 

“We all know Tanaka would fuck a volleyball or a net if he physically could,” Tsukki mutters into Tadashi’s ear. Tadashi is crying with how much he’s laughing. It feels good to be this happy, he thinks, wondering why he’s not this happy all the time. Maybe because he’s not drunk all the time. Maybe things would be better if he _were_ drunk all the time.

 

He probably should not be considering the merits of alcoholism at 16.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says again, no real intention behind the words aside from turning his best friend’s name over on his tongue. “Tsukki, Tsukki.”

 

Tsukki is looking down at him with a soft expression, and Tadashi grins and pushes himself up off Tsukki’s shoulder, ready to say something, except—

 

Hinata leans over against him, or more falls really, and Tadashi feels himself tipping until he’s practically in Tsukki’s lap, Hinata resting comfortably against Tadashi’s side. Tadashi giggles.

 

“Yamaguchi-kun,” Hinata says, his voice a little slurred. “The third years. Suga, Daichi-san, and Asahi-san.”

 

Tadashi snuggles himself in closer to Tsukki and breathes in the familiar scent of laundry detergent and bar soap. He mulls over Hinata’s prompt with a hum, closing his eyes and luxuriating in the warmth radiating from Tsukki.

 

“Yamaguchi,” Tsukki says. There’s a light sting against Tadashi’s forehead like Tsukki has flicked him. “The third years.”

 

Tadashi stops humming and then starts again and then opens his eyes and looks straight up at Tsukki. “Okay, this is hard. I guess…marry Suga. We all know we’d have to marry Suga.”

 

Hinata sits up, and Tsukki lets out a breath and looks away from where he’s been studying Tadashi with an intensity that’s making Tadashi want to squirm around or something. He misses the gaze as soon as it’s gone.

 

“Yeah,” Hinata is saying, but Tadashi hardly hears it. “Suga-san is the best. The right answer, really.”

 

Tadashi frowns and reaches up with very little coordination to run his fingers along the side of Tsukki’s ear, just because. Tsukki instantly looks back down, his expression almost concerned. His eyes are glowing like they’re filled with a hundred million suns, and Tadashi feels like his head is floating off, sort of how he feels sometimes when he’s not drunk and he’s just really contented, or even sometimes when he’s sad.

 

Right now, though, Tadashi is not sad.

 

“But I can’t kill either of the other two,” Tadashi manages after a few seconds of trying to pull his head back on straight. Time feels like it’s not moving, or like it’s moving too fast, and either way Tadashi cannot keep up. “Tsukki, what would you do?”

 

Tsukki looks down at Tadashi and raises a single eyebrow. “No,” he says, as if Tadashi should already know this answer, and really, he should. He does.

 

Tadashi sits up, pushing Hinata off of his lap so he can clamber to his knees in front of Tsukki and lean in towards him, deciding to push this even though he knows he shouldn’t. “Come on, Tsukki!”

 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukki says, but it’s not mean. Tadashi smiles.

 

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

 

Then there’s a weight against his back as Hinata leans himself up to hook his chin over Tadashi’s shoulder.

 

“Come on, Tsukishima! You haven’t actually answered a single one beyond saying who you’d kill!”

 

Tsukki’s face goes all grossed-out-looking, and Tadashi giggles.

 

“This game is a waste of time,” Tsukki says.

 

“Come on, Tsukishima,” Tanaka says.

 

“Yeah, come on, Tsukishima! We all want to know who you’re secretly sexually attracted to,” Ennoshita says.

 

Tadashi feels his heart leap into his throat. He doesn’t dare move and risk breaking the tension of the moment, Hinata heavy against his back, Tsukki’s eyes never leaving Tadashi’s even though everyone else is calling for his attention at the moment.

 

Finally, Tsukki turns away to take a drink of his water and look around the room at everyone. “I’m sexually attracted to music,” he says. Everyone kind of just stands there, staring.

 

It’s Hinata who breaks the silence. “You mean musicians?”

 

“No,” Tsukishima says, his stare blank.

 

Everyone laughs, but they give up after that.

 

“So seriously, Yamaguchi-kun! You haven’t actually answered! The third years!” Hinata is looking at him expectantly, and Tadashi forces his brain back to the question he’s supposed to be answering.

 

“Okay, so, marry Suga, like I said,” Yamaguchi says, the world all hazy as he takes another sip of his drink. As he sits back across Tsukki’s lap, he has the sudden urge to grab the glasses off his best friend’s nose, so he does. Tsukki doesn’t say anything, so Tadashi continues his musing. “Fuck, um…god, maybe fuck Daichi-san? Because I think it would be mean to Asahi-san to just fuck him and leave.”

 

“Hey, don’t kill Asahi-san!” Nishinoya yells out of nowhere, and he points at Tadashi. “Take it back. Take it back right now.”

 

“Yeah, Yamaguchi. You think fucking Asahi-san and leaving would be mean, so your plan is to just _kill_ him?” Tanaka says, slinging an arm over Nishinoya’s shoulders.

 

Yamaguchi flings his arms up over his face and bemoans his existence. Maybe he should drink more. “Okay! Okay! I guess I have to marry him then, though!”

 

“No! You can’t marry Asahi-san!” Nishinoya yells. Tadashi stares at him in silence and watches as Nishinoya realizes that everyone else is staring at him, too. Nishinoya blushes.

 

Tanaka is grinning like a maniac. “Why not, Yuu? Why can’t darling Tadashi marry Asahi-san?”

 

Nishinoya starts attempting some explanation that Tadashi can’t follow, maybe because Tadashi is very drunk. His head is spinning, and when he lifts his cup to his mouth, Tsukki pulls it from his grasp. Tadashi whines.

 

“He’s right,” Tsukki says, and Tadashi’s protest cuts off in his throat. Tsukki just looks bored. “You can’t marry Asahi-san.” His expression turns into kind of a glare.

 

Tadashi’s heart goes kind of wild. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Tadashi says, reaching up to skim his fingers through Tsukki’s hair just because it looks soft. “I can’t choose! This one’s too hard!”

 

Tanaka mutters something to Nishinoya that has the libero laughing, and for some reason, Tsukki blushes.

 

“I’m sure he’s also not too happy about having a third wheel tacked on to the little love mobile,” Nishinoya remarks with a smirk, and Tadashi furrows his brow.

 

“What are you talking about?” Tadashi asks, pulling his hands away from where they’ve been covering his eyes. Tsukki tugs the glasses off Tadashi’s nose and resettles them on his own face, blinking and sipping his water. Tanaka and Nishinoya have apparently forgotten about them, because they turn back to whatever it is they were doing before this whole thing started, and Hinata sits up off Tadashi’s lap to look around and then engage a silent Kageyama in conversation. Tadashi sits up and feels the room spin.

 

“I’m really drunk,” Tadashi says, feeling himself list sideways and away from Tsukki. Tsukki grabs his wrist and tugs him back, making a little flare of heat rocket through Tadashi’s veins.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Tsukki says, pulling Tadashi in against him so that Tadashi won’t fall over. It’s easy to press his nose into Tsukki’s throat, to let his head drop against his best friend’s shoulder so that he won’t tip backwards onto the floor. Tsukki lets him, and Tadashi feels himself wonder—

 

_Maybe. Maybe._

 

“You should drink some water,” Tsukki says, and Tadashi is suddenly reminded that he’s been drinking, that he can’t trust his brain right now because it’s swimming in alcohol and his emotions are fucked up enough _without_ the help of vodka to make everything more intense, and he should really pull away because Tsukki doesn’t want this, but. But. He can’t.

 

He sits against Tsukki and drinks the water, and Tsukki runs a hand along his back, fingertips light and barely brushing the fabric of Tadashi’s shirt. The motion has Tadashi shivering in Tsukki’s arms, and he hopes Tsukki won’t notice.

 

“Watching Tanaka and Nishinoya dance is like watching the unsuccessful mating ritual of a couple of peacocks,” Tsukki murmurs into Tadashi’s ear.

 

Tadashi giggles. “Yeah, especially Noya, with his hair,” he says, and Tsukki looks down at him with an expression of surprise and delight obvious in the widening of his eyes, the slight tilt of his mouth. Tadashi is sure no one else would notice the change in expression, but he does. “What? Surprised I can be mean? You’ve known me forever, Tsukki. Did you just forget?” And, like—whoa, Tadashi thinks, maybe he’s trying to flirt with Tsukki.

 

Tsukki lifts his chin so Tadashi can’t see his expression anymore. “Shut up, Yamaguchi. Who the hell taught you to be sassy?”

 

Tadashi giggles again. Yep. His drunk ass is definitely flirting with Tsukki. “Who do you think, _Tsukki?_ It was all you. It’s always you,” he says, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

 

Tsukki goes silent, his expression giving away nothing, and Tadashi hides the sudden flash of fear and hurt by sipping at Tsukki’s water.

 

Tadashi sits against Tsukki for a while. He can’t really tell how long it is because he’s drunk, but he knows that Tsukki eventually relaxes after Tadashi’s slip and mutters a few more jokes that have Tadashi chuckling, content even as the dizziness turns from deliriously pleasurable to kind of annoying and sickening. Tadashi falls silent and just breathes in at Tsukki’s throat; at some point his legs find their way across Tsukki’s lap, and Tsukki doesn’t let go.

 

Tadashi has always been a rambler when he feels sick. Talking to himself calms him down, distracts him from whatever he’s feeling, and he knows Tsukki can tell he doesn’t feel good when out of nowhere Tadashi starts muttering about what’s going on in this manga he’s been reading. Tadashi is hardly even sure himself what he’s talking about, and after a while he realizes he’s analyzing everything he’s been drinking to try to figure out how drunk he is, almost like he’s trying to talk himself out of his intoxication. Tsukki just lets him ramble, at one point exchanging a few words with Hinata, but Tadashi doesn’t mind. As long as Tsukki keeps him grounded physically and lets him talk, he really doesn’t care.

 

Finally, Tsukki maneuvers Tadashi out of his lap and practically lifts him up to his feet.

 

“We’re leaving,” Tsukki says, and Tadashi follows him towards the door. They’re holding hands, and Tadashi fixates on the feel of Tsukki’s palm against his, the rough of callouses and the brush of a thumb against his own.

 

“Where are you going?” Nishinoya asks.

 

“My house. It’s close; he can sober up there,” Tsukki says, and Tadashi feels like his head is a thousand miles away from his body as he’s led out of the room, their hands shifting so that their fingers are intertwined as Tsukki calls a goodnight to everyone and tugs Tadashi down the stairs and out of the house.

 

It’s still warm at midnight because it’s August and it’s sticky-hot and humid all the time, but the fresh air still makes Tadashi feel more alert, his disorientation subsiding a little bit so that he can catch up to Tsukki and walk beside him, their fingers still interlocked. Tsukki doesn’t say anything; he’s looking straight ahead as if lost in thought, his expression set into typical neutrality.

 

“Did you have fun, Tsukki?” Tadashi asks, turning to look at Tsukki until he stumbles over a crack in the pavement so that Tsukki has to reach out with the hand not holding Tadashi’s already and steady him, Tadashi flashing an apologetic smile.

 

“I watched a group of teenage boys get drunk illegally and play marry, fuck, kill,” Tsukki says, as if this answers the question. Typical Tsukki.

 

Tadashi grins. “Yeah, so did I, and I had lots of fun!”

 

“You also got drunk,” Tsukki points out, eyeing Tadashi for a moment before he turns back to look forward down the road.

 

Tadashi hums and lets his eyes flutter closed a little bit. “Hmm, yeah, I did. I still am. Drunk, I mean.”

 

Tsukki snorts. “Yeah, I can tell.”

 

“How?” Tadashi asks, genuinely a little curious. He isn’t rambling on the way he had been at Tanaka’s, and he’s not even stumbling, he’s sure of it. He’s not slurring his words, either.

 

Tsukki shrugs, the motion tugging Tadashi’s hand up where it’s still clasped in Tsukki’s. “You seem happy,” he says, the words simple, and easy, and heart-wrenching.

 

Tadashi feels his chin drop, his shoulders slumping as he tries to focus on the ground in front of him and not on the wave of guilt and fear that’s washing over him.

 

“It’s better when you’re happy,” Tsukki says almost as an afterthought.

 

Tadashi looks up at him, his chest a jumbled mix of emotions that he can’t hope to control. “Tsukki?”

 

Tsukki doesn’t turn his head when he hums a response.

 

Tadashi lets his head turn back forward and fall again, studying his feet as they walk. It makes him dizzy all over again, though, so he lifts his gaze just enough to see that they’re only a block from Tsukki’s.

 

“What, Yamaguchi?” Tsukki asks after a minute or so of silence.

 

Tadashi startles. “What?”

 

“Did you have something to say, or what?”

 

Tadashi swallows, shakes his head. Lets himself be led through the gate and up to Tsukki’s front door. “No, nothing. It’s fine.”

 

Tsukki looks down at him, his keys in his hand like he’s going to unlock the door, but he doesn’t. He shifts from foot to foot in front of Tadashi, his brow furrowed like he’s concentrating hard on something. Tadashi stays quiet. Finally, Tsukki unlocks the door and pulls Tadashi inside. Their fingers are still twined together.

 

They slip off their shoes and shrug off their coats like they’ve done a thousand times, and it turns out both of those tasks are more difficult when you’re drunk, because Tadashi almost falls over at least three times during this process. Tsukki grabs his hand again to lead them upstairs, whispering in his mildly irate voice, “Hold on and don’t fall. You’ll wake up my parents.”

 

They climb the stairs and go to Tsukki’s bedroom like they have a million times before, only this time they’re holding hands, and there’s no spare futon spread on the floor. It just seems to make sense for Tadashi to head for Tsukki’s bed, but Tsukki is pulling him back and offering him pajama pants and a t-shirt before heading into the bathroom. Tadashi sighs relief as he changes in the empty bedroom, his scarred skin only exposed for a few seconds before Tsukki’s pajama pants hide it away again.

 

Tsukki’s pajamas are a little too long on him, but not enough to make him trip as he heads into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He has his own toothbrush at Tsukki’s house still, has since they were 11. Tsukki’s mom even replaces it for him. He feels just as comfortable in Tsukki’s space as he does in his own house, and it brings back memories of all the nights spent here, the week-long sleepovers in the summer and the mid-winter nights dozing under the kotatsu in the living room.

 

The flood of nostalgia makes Tadashi feel like a child when he steps into Tsukki’s bedroom and sees Tsukki stretched out on the far side of the bed, leaving space for Tadashi beside him. Tadashi drops his regular clothes in a heap on the floor and shuts the door. His head is still buzzing as he lies down next to Tsukki, the blond toying around on his phone like he hasn’t even noticed Tadashi coming back in.

 

“Hey,” Tadashi says. He can’t help it; he needs Tsukki’s attention like a drug, he thinks. But Tsukki doesn’t seem to mind. He puts his phone down and looks at the long line Tadashi has made by stretching out on his comforter and snorts.

 

“At least get under the covers. I know you’re drunk, but that part isn’t exactly difficult.”

 

“Can I have a pillow? To put beside me, so I don’t roll out of bed?”

 

“I know what it’s for; I’ve slept in this bed with you a hundred times, probably.”

 

Tadashi nods into the pillow, his mouth set in a serious line. “Yes, you have.”

 

Tsukki hands him the extra pillow, and Tadashi climbs under the covers next to Tsukki.

 

“We’re too big for this,” Tadashi says, feeling the way his legs line up along Tsukki’s so they’re all pressed together in the small space. Tsukki shuts off the lamp and lies down facing Tadashi, and Tadashi grins at his as he set his glasses on the nightstand. “Can you even see me?”

 

Tsukki stares at him. “Yes. You’re right there. This bed isn’t exactly big.”

 

Tadashi nods. “It’s very small. Has it always been this small?”

 

“Yes. We just haven’t always been this big.”

 

“You’ve always been giant, Tsukki. Tall and skinny as _fuck._ ”

 

Tsukki’s eyes narrow. “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

 

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi says. “Seriously, though. You…sometimes you don’t eat, and I get worried,” Tadashi admits.

 

Tsukki’s face hardly changes, but Tadashi can see his jaw clench a little. “I’m fine, Yamaguchi. If anything, you’re the one—”

 

Tsukki stays silent for long enough that Tadashi bites his lip and furrows his brow. “What?”

 

Tsukki takes a breath, says nothing, lets it out. Takes another. “Nothing.”

 

Tadashi closes his eyes. “Okay.” He’s not sure why he feels disappointed.

 

They’re quiet for a few long moments. It is Tsukki who finally breaks the silence: “Go to sleep, Tadashi. If you’re going to puke, don’t do it in my bed.”

 

“Sure, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, eyes dropping closed. He feels suddenly exhausted, but in that bone-deep way that has nothing to do with the physical need for sleep and everything to do with Tadashi’s ache for his best friend, the emptiness in him that will never be filled. Tsukki is right next to him, and yet Tadashi feels the lack of him like a missing limb.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Tadashi’s eyes fly open. “Tsukki?”

 

“You heard what I said.”

 

Tadashi’s inhales come suddenly faster, his head spinning faster as a dull throb starts up in the back of his skull, and Tadashi wishes out of nowhere that he were sober, that he felt less _off_ for this conversation, if they’re actually going to have it, and—

 

“Wait,” Tsukki says. “I changed my mind. Tell me when you’re sober.”

 

Tadashi swallows hard against a sudden flood of nausea. “Tsukki—maybe I—am going to puke,” he says, struggling to sit up. Tsukki climbs over the end of the bed and grabs the trashcan, handing it over and settling back on the bed as Tadashi clutches tight to the wastebasket and breathes heavy as he waits for the nausea to pass. He doesn’t actually puke, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Tadashi _hates_ puking.

 

“Are you okay?” Tsukki asks after a minute.

 

Tadashi nods. “I think. Maybe I’ll keep the trashcan next to me, though.”

 

Tsukki nods. “Wake me up if you feel sick again,” he says, the tone harsh even if the words themselves give away something gentle and sweet.

 

Tadashi’s heart pounds hard on hope, harder even on hurt. He knows he shouldn’t let himself get caught up in this, the Tsukki that cares about him in his own gruff way.

 

“Goodnight, Tsukki.”

 

Tsukki mutters a goodnight, and Tadashi somehow manages to slip into vague, dozy dreams, his head still spinning, his stomach never quite settling. His sleep isn’t easy, but he can’t quite seem to wake up, either. At one point, he thinks he regains consciousness enough to feel Tsukki brushing hair out of his face, but in the morning Tsukki is out like a light beside him, and Tadashi tells himself it must have been an alcohol-hazy dream.

 

Tadashi is cold and irritable once his eyes are open again, his head a little fuzzy still even though he doesn’t feel as bad as he had thought he might. Tsukki is sleeping soundly beside him, so Tadashi climbs out of bed and stumbles his way to the bathroom. It’s early on a Saturday morning so Tadashi knows Tsukki’s parents will be out for their weekly breakfast date, and Tadashi splashes water against his face and looks in the mirror before emptying his bladder and then returning to Tsukki’s room. The blond is still asleep, all the covers wrapped around him, which must be why Tadashi was so cold upon awaking.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi grumbles as he climbs back into bed. “Tsukki, give me some blankets. It’s cold,” he says.

 

Tsukki blinks his eyes half-open and groans. “Turn off the air conditioner, then,” he says, and Tadashi realizes that, yeah, it’s August, so there’s no way the room could be this cold unless it’s artificial. He clicks the remote at the little air conditioner unit in the wall and sighs as it shuts off, but he’s still cold.

 

“Tsukki. Blankets,” he whines, turning to face the burrito of warmth that is Tsukki. Tsukki lifts an arm and struggles his way out of his cocoon, and Tadashi snuggles up underneath his arm.

 

“What time is it?” He feels Tsukki reaching across him to collect his phone from the nightstand, and he whines a little bit as the bed jostles beneath him.

 

“It’s only seven,” Tsukki says. “You should go back to sleep. You look tired, and you’re kind of out of it. Your mom will know something is up if you go home now.”

 

Tadashi closes his eyes and hums. “I doubt it,” he says, not thinking about his words until it’s too late.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Tadashi opens his eyes and looks at Tsukki. He’s not drunk anymore, but maybe the residual effect of the alcohol is still loosening his tongue, because he sighs and decides he may as well be honest. “She hasn’t noticed. Or if she has, she hasn’t said anything.”

 

And there it is. He hasn’t really said anything, but Tadashi knows Tsukki will know what he’s insinuating. Tsukki isn’t exactly slow on the uptake.

 

Sure enough, Tsukki inhales just sharply enough for Tadashi to pick up on his surprise. “What’s wrong, Tadashi? You’re sober now, right?”

 

Tadashi nods into Tsukki’s pillow and turns from where he’s resting on his stomach to lie on his side, his body curving in towards Tsukki beside him. They lie there like a pair of parentheses, and Tadashi exhales into the space between them and thinks about what he could say, whether he even wants to say it. Whether it matters.

 

“I’m sober, Tsukki,” he says.

 

And this could be it. This could be the moment Tadashi recounts everything, confesses all his bad coping mechanisms and anxieties to the one person who might take all of that in and not run. Tsukki is waiting, leaning in so that he can actually see Tadashi without his glasses perched across his nose, and Tadashi closes his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Tsukki,” he says. “I can’t…” Tadashi takes a breath, tries again. The words are stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

 

Tsukki looks at him and for a moment Tadashi thinks Tsukki might get mad. Might throw him out right now, make him go home and sleep off the headache alone there, and really, that would be okay. Tadashi can deal.

 

But Tsukki doesn’t look angry. He just looks resigned. “I guess I can’t make you say anything. But something is wrong, isn’t it,” he says. It’s not a question.

 

Tadashi bites his lip, his silence enough of a response.

 

“You’ve been spacey and quiet for—since last winter. You don’t laugh at my jokes as much,” Tsukki says, matter of fact, like a scientist reporting data after an experiment. “Sometimes you’re fine, like you used to be all the time. Most days, even. But sometimes you’re not.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah. I know.”

 

“That’s what your mom hasn’t noticed,” Tsukki says. “That you’re kind of out of it.”

 

Tadashi offers him a weak grin. “Maybe I just need more sleep.”

 

“Have you been telling her that? Or has she honestly not noticed?”

 

“I don’t want her to notice,” Tadashi says, the words almost snappish. Tsukki doesn’t react, and Tadashi sighs. “I’m fine, Tsukki. Like you said, most of the time I’m completely fine.”

 

“And then?”

 

“And then sometimes I’m not.”

 

Tsukki swallows. “Everyone is _not fine_ sometimes. Your _not fine_ isn’t like everyone else’s.”

 

Tadashi exhales and it’s almost a laugh. “Yours isn’t like everyone else’s either.” Tadashi means it as a sort-of joke, something to lighten the mood, but Tsukki freezes. It’s only for a second, but Tadashi realizes in a shock of hurt that maybe Tsukki isn’t as okay as he makes himself out to be either, that maybe both of them are struggling and scared to tell their best friends—each other—about it, and maybe that’s really stupid. Because Tadashi wants to know all of Tsukki’s fears, all his insecurities and all the things that make him _not fine._

 

And yet, he’s unwilling to share his own.

 

“Tsukki, I want to go back to sleep. Maybe I should home now. Have my own bed and all,” Tadashi says, mentally preparing himself for the walk back to his house. They’re on the brink of something important, and Tadashi thinks that if he doesn’t get out now, everything might come crumbling apart into Tsukki’s hands, and even if that’s what he secretly wants, it’s not something he’s equipped to handle at the moment.

 

But Tsukki only nods and pushes Tadashi back to his mattress when Tadashi moves to stand. “Shut up, Yamaguchi. Go back to sleep. You can hang here until you actually feel okay enough to go home.” Tsukki’s expression is set, and Tadashi meets his eyes and knows that they both know. That they both understand that they’re standing on the edge of a cliff, and that even if they don’t jump, eventually the ground will disintegrate underneath them and they’ll be in freefall. Whether they do it together or separately will be their own decision.

 

But for now, they are safe. Things are tenuous, but Tsukki’s eyes are gentle and his hand is firm where it’s grasped around Tadashi’s wrist, keeping him in bed. Tadashi looks at Tsukki and feels like he could cry from how in love he is.

 

Tadashi falls back to sleep with Tsukki’s hand wrapped around his wrist, his pulse beating heavy. If Tsukki can feel it hammering against his thumb, he doesn’t say anything when they awake hours later, or while they eat breakfast, or when finally Tsukki walks Tadashi all the way home, his hand never leaving Tadashi’s skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For the next three weeks, it feels like there’s been a shift. Tadashi is uncertain about what’s changed, which makes him a little bit restless and spacey, but Tsukki is next to him almost constantly, and his presence soothes Tadashi’s nerves even though it is also the cause of them. It’s a confusing state of affairs, but Tadashi takes it in stride, and is proud that he doesn’t add any scars to his collection. It’s been a month since he last hurt himself, and that was just because he’d been upset over nothing, as usual. He’s fine. It’s not a big deal.

 

Tadashi and Tsukki are in Tsukki’s bedroom one afternoon, and it’s Saturday so there’s no school the next day, and they’re listening to this new K-Pop group that’s just debuted even though Tsukki still doesn’t like K-Pop that much, or at all. But the rapping is good, and there’s enough intrigue to the melodies and chord changes to keep Tsukki from getting too bored what with his stupidly sophisticated taste in progressive rock and other experimental types of music.

 

“Do you think I could be a K-Pop idol?” Tadashi asks, tongue sticking out between his teeth as he grins at Tsukki.

 

Tsukki raises his eyebrows. “You’d be better than Tanaka and Nishinoya were at the party.”

 

Tadashi groans. “Ugh, the party. I forgot that even happened.”

 

“Really? I didn’t think you drank _that_ much.”

 

Tadashi shakes his head. “No, no, not like I blacked out. Like, I just haven’t thought about it in a while.”

 

This is a lie. Tadashi thinks about it all the time. Thinks about Tsukki holding him close while he was drunk. Thinks about sleeping in Tsukki’s bed, the very bed they’re lying on right now. Thinks about Tsukki walking him home the next day, a hand around his wrist.

 

“Do you think Kageyama and Hinata made out after we left?”

 

Tadashi can’t help the startled laugh that jumps from his throat. “You’ve noticed that too?”

 

Tsukki gives him a scathing look. “Yamaguchi Tadashi. You think I wouldn’t notice the way Thing One and Thing Two are constantly dancing around each other and trying and failing really badly at flirting while we’re all watching them at practice?”

 

Tadashi’s laughter ramps up, and he’s gasping as he nods and splutters his next words. “They’re so bad at it, right? Hinata is too silly and overdramatic, and Kageyama is just awkwardly mean!”

 

Tsukki is biting his lip, which means that in his head he’s laughing as hard as Tadashi is. “Did you see them this morning? When Hinata tried to toss the ball to him with this little flourish that made the ball hit Yachi on the butt?”

 

Tadashi’s laughter only escalates. “Yes—I—Yachi was—Hinata just flailed around even _more._ And then Tanaka and Noya were—laughing so hard they— _fell over_.”

 

“You’re going to fall over, too,” Tsukki points out, and he’s right, because Tadashi is suddenly tilting so much he’s about to slide right off the bed, and Tsukki’s arm is wrapping around his bicep as the blond yanks Tadashi back into balance, both of them facing each other on their sides, laughs still tearing their way out of Tadashi’s throat as Tsukki gives a mean little smirk.

 

“I bet they didn’t,” Tadashi says through his giggles, and Tsukki nods gravely even though he’s still kind of smiling that derisive little grin.

 

“Yeah, they’re way too dumb to just fuck and get it over with.”

 

Tadashi stops laughing, suddenly pensive. “Do you think they’d really do that? Like, actually sleep together? I mean, we’re all only 16, you know. I guess Hinata is 17. But still, that’s…kinda young, isn’t it?”

 

Tsukki shrugs, his face going all serious, and Tadashi smiles a little because he knows that Tsukki will take this conversation seriously even though maybe no one else would, because teenagers don’t have real conversations about sex. That’s one reason Tadashi’s mom has always said teenagers shouldn’t be having it—she’s a huge believer in the “if you can’t have an adult conversation about it, you shouldn’t be doing it” philosophy.

 

“I don’t know, honestly,” Tsukki says after a second. “I mean, I’ll be honest—I don’t think Kageyama and Hinata would do it. They’re way too dumb. They’d probably just mess it up if they tried it now.” Tsukki pauses. “But Suga and Daichi-san, yeah. I would bet they’ve done it. Didn’t you notice how they suddenly started acting even _more_ married after winter break last year?”

 

Tadashi thinks back to the previous winter. He had been a little bit too wrapped up in his own head to pay attention to anyone else. He shakes his head.

 

Tsukki nods. “Yeah, and anyways, they’re in college now. It would be weirder if they weren’t doing it.” He looks weirdly apprehensive and uncomfortable as he says it.

 

Tadashi bites his lip, thinking hard. “What about the others? Tanaka? Noya-sempai?”

 

Tsukki shrugs. “I don’t know. I’d say it’s fifty-fifty on both of them. And I would say neither one of them has slept with a guy. If they’ve done it, it was with a girl.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Do you ever play the virgin game?”

 

“Is that where you go around the classroom and guess who’s had sex and who hasn’t?”

 

Tadashi giggles. “Yep.”

 

Tsukki rolls his eyes, but he also nods. “Yeah, okay, I’ve played.”

 

“And?”

 

“What?”

 

Tadashi swallows. “Do you think we’re in the minority? Because we both haven’t done it?” But then suddenly Tadashi realizes that maybe Tsukki _has_ actually done it and he just never told Tadashi. It’s a possibility that sends hurt stabbing through Tadashi’s chest, not only because he’s afraid Tsukki has experienced something so intimate with someone not him, but also because if Tsukki _has_ done that and hasn’t told his _best friend_ , well—

 

“No. I’ve told you, girls are a pain in the ass.”

 

Tadashi swallows hard and summons all his courage before he speaks again. “Boys too?”

 

Tsukki doesn’t even make the obvious dirty joke. He just nods. “Yeah. Everyone. Relationships in general are too troublesome to be worth it. I have far better ways to spend my time.”

 

Tadashi bites his lip. Tsukki is looking at him with this weird expression. The song playing in the background is saying something in English now, something about liking someone, of course, because all the music Tadashi listens to ends up having something to do with love. That’s pop music for you, he thinks, and swallows.

 

It’s been ten seconds and Tsukki has just been staring at him, their eyes locked. Tadashi’s heart is racing, and he bites his lip and watches Tsukki’s eyes track the movement, his gaze almost heated but not quite. He looks calculating instead of interested, like he’s trying to make a decision between two equally unappealing options.

 

“You don’t like anyone,” Tadashi says, the words soft, not really a question.

 

Tsukki swallows then, his gaze turning a little bit sad and then going hard as he sits up. “No. I don’t care. You wanna finish the physics homework?”

 

Tadashi pushes down the hurt that bubbles through his chest and tells himself not to figure out a way to escape home and slice open his own skin. He feels like he’s drowning, like he’s falling and he can see the ground but it still hasn’t quite hit yet, his feelings numb and distant, his head gone all spacey again. There’s no way he’ll be able to concentrate on homework.

 

“Okay, Tsukki,” Tadashi says weakly, and drags himself onto the floor to settle cross-legged and struggle through the problem set. Tsukki sits beside him and helps a little, but Tadashi is out of it for the rest of the night, and he ends up going home with Tsukki’s paper in his bag, too, because the blond takes one look at Tadashi’s near-empty sheet and tells him to just copy down the right answers after he’s gotten some sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things are awkward for three days. Tsukki is even quieter and more serious than usual, and Tadashi’s emotions go all over the place the way they had been back at the beginning of the year, Tadashi’s really not sure what to do about it. But then one day they’re in the gym, getting a sip of water during a quick break, and the world spins out of control.

 

“Whoa, Tsukki, something’s wrong.”

 

“What—Yamaguchi, shit!” Tsukki grabs at Tadashi’s arm as the world spins and turns, Tadashi’s head spinning with it. He thinks he’s going to fall over into the wall, but Tsukki holds him steady for long enough that Tadashi can regain his balance, trusting gravity to tell him where the floor is.

 

“I need to sit down,” Tadashi says, and he’s about to collapse right in the middle of the gym floor, but Tsukki looks around at the others, who haven’t noticed that anything is wrong, and then he looks back at Tadashi and starts hauling him out of the gym and into the yard outside.

 

“Shit,” Tadashi says, another wave of dizziness crashing through him so he has to lean himself all the way against Tsukki. He buries his face into Tsukki’s shoulder and tries to ignore the nausea rolling through his stomach.

 

“Come on,” Tsukki says, dragging him around the corner of the gym and then sinking to the ground, pulling Tadashi with him. The grass is cool and a little damp; it’s still early morning, and Tadashi collapses onto the ground and curls up into a little ball, moaning.

 

“What the hell happened?” Tsukki asks, shifting around and lifting Tadashi’s head into his strong hands so he can slide a thigh underneath like a pillow. Tadashi lets his temple fall against Tsukishima’s gym shorts and sighs, the disorientation receding a little bit now that he’s lying down.

 

“I just got really dizzy all of a sudden,” Tadashi says. “My mom gets it too sometimes. Vertigo.”

 

Tsukki presses his hand against Tadashi’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”

 

“I don’t think it works that way.” There’s a pause. “Maybe I’m crazy,” Tadashi says, voice casual. Tsukki tenses, just barely, but for a second Tadashi worries that his best friend is going to push into territory that Tadashi doesn’t want to broach.

 

But Tsukki just shakes his head. “If it’s vertigo, then you’re not crazy.”

 

Tadashi makes a soft sound of acquiescence, thinks of the fading white and red lines scarring his upper thighs, his ankles. Tsukki still hasn’t seen them.

 

Eventually, Takeda-sensei comes looking for them.

 

“Is everything okay?” He asks, looking worried. “Should I call your parents, Yamaguchi-kun?”

 

Tadashi sighs and pushes himself up. The vertigo is largely gone, and he can sit upright without feeling like he’s going to puke or fall over. “No, I’m okay. It was just vertigo.”

 

“His mom gets it too,” Tsukki says.

 

Takeda-sensei nods. “You should probably go to the nurse just in case, and drink some water. Do you feel well enough to come back to practice after that?”

 

This is the part that Tadashi hates.

 

Because the truth is, he doesn’t feel well enough to practice. He’s not about to trip over nothing and collapse anymore, but he’s a little out of it, and he should probably just go home. His best friend who he’s _in love with_ was just carding his fingers through his hair and comforting him. Tadashi feels overwhelmed and still a little disoriented and kind of like he might just pass out.

 

But.

 

He can’t let his team down.

 

“I think that will be okay, yeah,” he says, even though he really doesn’t want to. Tsukki is looking at him like he knows Tadashi is lying, but he doesn’t say anything, and Takeda-sensei doesn’t seem to notice.

 

“Go see the nurse. Have her clear you for practice and then come back. Tsukishima-kun, you can go with him if you’d like.”

 

Tsukishima nods. “Yeah, I’ll take him. Just in case it comes back.”

 

It doesn’t come back, and Tadashi actually does start feeling better, especially after he drinks the water the nurse gives him. He goes back to practice, and everything is fine.

 

The vertigo comes back again and again from then on. It’s not an everyday occurrence; it’s not even an every week occurrence. But maybe once a month or so, Tadashi will feel himself go all dizzy out of nowhere. By the end of their second year, Tsukki knows what to do: he knows the way Tadashi will go suddenly pale, how his hand will fly to his forehead even though it’s not really a headache, how he’ll reach for Tsukki as soon as he feels the disorientation because he knows Tsukki will be right there to grab him. Tsukki knows to find a safe spot nearby where he can guide them both to the ground and get Tadashi’s head in Tsukki’s lap, his hands picking at the seam of Tsukki’s uniform trousers or his gym shorts.

 

One day it happens at a practice match when the team is out in the hallway after the first set, and Tsukki tugs them back behind a vending machine so Tadashi can lie down. When Kageyama appears around the corner and stops short with eyes wide at the sight of Tsukki carding his fingers through Tadashi’s hair, Tadashi’s head in his lap, and Tsukki’s jacket draped like a blanket across Tadashi’s shoulders, Tsukki simply says, “He’s fine. He just needed to lie down,” and Kageyama nods and looks like he understands.

 

Later, on the bus ride home, Tsukki and Tadashi catch Kageyama and Hinata asleep against each other, one of Hinata’s hands clutched tight in Kageyama’s. They share a little smile even as Tsukki mutters some biting comment about how lame the shrimp and the king are, and Tadashi laughs at the joke and clutches Tsukki’s sleeve even tighter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With the start of third year comes a lot of stress over college and entrance exams. By mid-May, the pressure of it all drives Tadashi to take a leaf out of Tanaka and Nishinoya’s book, although he does feel a little guilty when he lights the cigarette with a quick, practiced motion and leans back against the side wall of the alley next to his house, hoping his mom won’t walk outside for some reason and catch him in the act.

 

He takes a long drag and holds it in his lungs for a few seconds before he lets it out with a flutter of his eyelids, his head spinning as the nicotine hits his bloodstream.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Tadashi opens his eyes with a gasp, the cigarette nearly falling from between his fingers as he stares up at Tsukki, who is standing a few feet away with his left eyebrow raised, his expression questioning but not quite critical.

 

Tadashi swallows. “Hey, Tsukki,” he says. He thinks he should feel nervous to be caught out like this, but Tsukki is his best friend and maybe he’ll understand. Then again, maybe Tadashi’s calm is just the effect of the nicotine.

 

Tsukki tilts his head and takes a step closer. “Is this what you’ve been hiding from me?”

 

Now Tadashi’s heart _does_ beat faster, the cigarette burning down in his fingers. He flicks ash from the end. “What—I haven’t been hiding anything, Tsukki,” he says, blushing. He puts the cigarette to his lips again and takes another drag, letting it out over Tsukki’s head in a long sigh.

 

Tsukki snatches the cigarette from between his fingers. “Give me that.”

 

And Tadashi—Tadashi thinks Tsukki is going to crush the cigarette into the ground, maybe even lecture him about the financial and health detriments of smoking, but—

 

but—

 

Tsukki is fitting the half-gone cigarette to his own lips, and he’s inhaling with a grace that says he’s done this before, and Tadashi feels everything inside him go hot and dizzy like his knees might collapse under him.

 

Tsukki holds the smoke for a few seconds before he exhales up at the sky, grabbing Tadashi’s sleeve and tugging him back the way Tsukki’s just come from. “Come on. I was coming to get you to bring you back to my house. You not checking your phone or something?”

 

Tadashi shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, and sure enough, he has a new LINE message from twenty minutes earlier. It’s Tsukki telling him to come over. “Sorry, Tsukki.”

 

“It’s fine. Here,” he says, holding out the cigarette between his long, beautiful fingers. The motion looks so elegant and practiced that Tadashi has to take a second to calm down before he reaches out his own hand to take the cigarette. He presses it to his lips and takes the next drag, feeling the smoke cling all weighty and thick in the back of his throat. He exhales and feels the better for having taken death inside him and lived.

 

They walk another block and Tadashi is almost finished with the cigarette when Tsukki grabs it back from him and takes the final drag.

 

“Hey,” Tadashi protests.

 

Tsukki reaches into Tadashi’s back pocket and pulls out the pack of cigarettes and the lighter like he’s known they were there the whole time. “Sorry, Tadashi,” he says out of nowhere, like the words don’t just smack all the air out of Tadashi’s lungs. Tsukki _never_ calls him Tadashi, and he certainly doesn’t apologize the way Tadashi throws around “Sorry, Tsukki” like a mantra.

 

But Tsukki is lighting the cigarette like he’s done it before, and he takes a drag and then notices the lady walking with her kid across the street. He tugs Tadashi into a little secluded alley off the main street. It’s deserted, and Tsukki looks around before leaning in and pressing his own fingers to Tadashi’s lips, the cigarette a light but pressing weight against his mouth.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says as he fits his lips around the cigarette, eyelids fluttering a little as he inhales and feels his abs clench at how sensual this feels. Tsukki draws the cigarette away after a second and fits it to his own lips, and Tadashi swallows before he exhales.

 

“You shouldn’t be doing this where people can see you,” Tsukki says. “ _We_ shouldn’t be doing this where people can see _us_.”

 

Tadashi’s whole body flushes with heat, his mouth parting on a sudden rush of air. Tsukki is too close to him; there’s no way this is an accident. Tsukki is standing over him, their few centimeters of difference in height suddenly enough to make Tadashi feel small, vulnerable.

 

And yet.

 

He feels powerful, too. Here’s Tsukki, _Tsukishima Kei,_ sharing a cigarette with him in an alley off the road, his comrade in all regards, his teammate, his best friend, his—

 

Fuck. Tadashi grabs Tsukki’s wrist and fits the cigarette to his lips while it’s still between Tsukki’s long fingers. He takes a desperate drag and lets his eyes flutter shut on relief, the nicotine sending his head spiraling higher and dizzier even as he feels more in control, more beautiful than ever.

 

He opens his eyes and Tsukki is looking at him, gold eyes dark with blown pupils, his jaw clenched like he’s trying hard not to say something, to make some motion he won’t be able to take back.

 

Tadashi stares at him, back pressed against the wall of the alley and chest tingling hot with arousal and love and unfettered _want_ for the person in front of him, the person he _has_ in every regard except this one in which he is lacking, this thing blooming seemingly out of nowhere in this alley because of this cigarette, or because of the one that came before it, and—

 

Tsukki finishes off the cigarette and steps away from Tadashi. It’s the worst kind of rush, the sudden cool of the air once Tsukki leans away and stops shielding Tadashi in with his body. Tadashi hadn’t even noticed it getting windy, and suddenly the cold of the air makes him feel sick and a little bit shaky. He probably shouldn’t have smoked so much, considering how little he actually does it.

 

“Come on. I have something to show you.” Tsukki is turning and walking out of the alley, and Tadashi takes a minute to take some deep breaths and calm down before turning to follow, ever the loyal puppy trailing after Tsukki.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The thing Tsukki has to show him turns out to be a brand new pair of headphones. “They’re for you,” Tsukki says, and Tadashi rears back a little bit in surprise.

 

“Me?” He asks. He’s not the audiophile among the two of them, and the headphones look expensive. Tadashi’s birthday isn’t for another six months, and there’s no other occasion Tadashi can think of that would warrant something like this.

 

“Yes. Because you have taste in music, and you should have something good to listen to it through.”

 

“I have…taste?”

 

“Yes. Not, like, _good_ taste. But you care about it, kind of like I do. Maybe not quite the way I do, but. You like it. You do like it, right?”

 

Tadashi nods. He doesn’t claim to _love_ music, not the way Tsukki does, but he likes it. He _really_ likes it. And it’s such a big part of Tsukki’s life, so he wants to appreciate it as much as he can in solidarity with his best friend. “Yeah, Tsukki. I really like music.”

 

Tsukki nods. “Good. They’re not the same as mine, because you need a different sound signature for the genres you listen to, but they’re really good. They’re V-shaped, so the bass doesn’t drown out the mids, and you should still get that nice, punchy sound that works really well in, like, pop and punk-emo music and whatever else you like. The higher tones are really crisp, too, so you’ll really be able to hear how great the production is on all those K-Pop songs you keep making me listen to.”

 

Tadashi is floored. Too floored to stop Tsukki’s lecture-turned-sales-pitch for the headphones he has apparently very carefully selected for Tadashi. Tadashi stands in the middle of Tsukki’s bedroom and smells the smoke lingering on his clothes, in his hair, and turns and throws his arms around Tsukki the way he hasn’t in actual years.

 

“Thank you,” Tadashi says. “I don’t really understand what you just said about things being V-shaped or whatever, but thank you. I’m sorry I make you listen to K-Pop.”

 

Tsukki doesn’t return the hug, but he doesn’t push Tadashi away. It kind of seems like he just doesn’t know what to do. “It’s fine,” he finally says. “I just thought it would be cool if we could both listen to our headphones together, like, we could be hanging out but listening to our own music, and we wouldn’t have to compromise so much.”

 

Tadashi bursts out laughing. “I should have known this was just a way for you to get out of listening to my music all the time,” he says, but he’s really not offended at all.

 

Tsukki nods. “Yeah, well, you won’t have to suffer through mine anymore, either. I’ll just tap your shoulder if I need to say something to you.”

 

“Oh, so you’ll just interrupt my listening experience whenever you want, huh?”

 

“You already do that to me; don’t pretend you don’t pause my music every time you want to say something just because you’re looking for excuses to turn it off.”

 

“I do not!”

 

“You never pause the music to talk when it’s your music we’re listening to.”

 

“I don’t have a playlist that is _literally called_ ‘Non-Pleb Songs’!”

 

“I named that playlist _ironically_! You pleb!”

 

“Tsukki!” Tadashi is laughing too hard to keep going; he’s doubled over in sheer delight and effervescent joy, his blood bubbling to champagne in his veins. “You’re the worst! The actual worst!”

 

Tsukki actually starts to laugh. Like, really laugh, not just the derisive chuckle he emits on occasion when he or Tadashi has said something particularly clever about something stupid one of their teammates have done.

 

They sober after a minute, and Tsukki picks up the headphones off his desk and hands them to Tadashi. “Here. Seriously, take them. I hope you like them. If you don’t, we can go to Bic Camera and get better ones.”

 

Tadashi shakes his head. “No, I’m sure they’re fine. They’ll be great for when I’m listening late at night in bed. Isn’t that just the best way to listen to music?”

 

Tsukki goes quiet. “I do that sometimes, yeah.” He pauses like he has something more to say, and Tadashi braces himself for whatever it is, because it’s got Tsukki looking weirdly vulnerable and nervous all of a sudden. “Yamaguchi— _Tadashi_ , I—you can text me, if you want. When you’re listening to music late at night.”

 

It feels like there’s a weight to the words that Tadashi can’t quite parse, and he frowns. “Sure, Tsukki. You can text me, too, you know. If you’re, like, trying not to fall asleep because you like the song, or whatever. That happens to me sometimes.”

 

“I kind of meant the opposite,” Tsukki says, and—what?

 

“That doesn’t make sense, Tsukki,” Tadashi says.

 

“When you can’t sleep, I mean.” Tsukki looks so nervous, like admitting to occasional insomnia is some terrifying confession.

 

Tadashi swallows. “Oh.” Because maybe it _is_ a big offer, Tadashi realizes, telling someone that they can text you when they’re falling apart in the early hours of the morning, sobbing into a pillow or, worse, not sobbing because they can’t feel anything at all. Tadashi thinks of how often it happens to him, maybe once or twice a month. He thinks of the scars on his thighs, the ones he’s now got on his hips that are from the iron instead of a razor.

 

“Does that happen to you?” Tadashi finds the strength to ask, although maybe it’s not strength at all, because he’s only shifting the subject away from himself.

 

Tsukki rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I get insomnia. Sometimes.”

 

Tadashi thinks, out of nowhere, about a conversation with Noya-sempai, something that had happened so long ago now that it almost feels like a dream. It would’ve been during the winter of their first year, or at least a year and a half ago. _Tsukishima is still being all weird and serious all the time, like worse than usual, and I never see him eat, like, ever_ , Noya-sempai had said.

 

Has Tsukki been eating? Is his obvious familiarity with cigarettes an indicator that he’s self-destructing the same way Tadashi is, or worse?

 

Tadashi suddenly realizes that for all their repaired friendship, for all he’s hopelessly in love with his best friend, they’re still light years away from each other in terms of real knowledge. They’re not honest with each other, not the way they should be if they’re best friends. They makes offers like this, but they won’t ever take each other up on those offers, even though they should. Their families are great and would probably be support systems if Tadashi or Tsukki were willing to ask, but going to their parents would mean doctors, would mean medication, would maybe even mean something worse.

 

They are all each other has. And they are squandering each other as if they are worth nothing, just dust in the wind.

 

But Tadashi looks at Tsukki and he can’t do it. He can’t do anything to change what’s happening, their mutual slow spirals towards the ground from whatever height they’d achieved earlier in their lives. They both have bad coping mechanisms, of that Tadashi has no doubt, and yet—

 

He can see all of this, and he cannot change it. He cannot be honest. He cannot trust Tsukki to be there even as he tells himself he hasn’t ever really given Tsukki the chance in the first place. Anytime anything has been wrong, Tadashi has pulled away, and Tsukki has done the same. When it matters, they run away from each other every time.

 

Tadashi swallows the sob that wants to claw its way out of his throat and starts opening the box containing the headphones, the motions more careful than they need to be as he opens a couple of cardboard tabs and takes out the Styrofoam holding the headphones inside.

 

“Thanks, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, thinking of what song he’ll listen to first.

 

Tsukki nods, and grabs his own headphones, and, with nothing better to do, Tadashi goes home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re in the club room when it all comes to a head.

 

“What do you want me to say, _Tsukki,_ ” Tadashi spits, the words so harsh they’re almost a growl, and raw, vulnerable in how angry and affected they sound.

 

“You could just tell me the truth,” Tsukki says, using his height to crowd in over Tadashi.

 

Tadashi snarls. “ _Fuck you,_ Tsukki. You want _me_ to tell _you_ the truth? _You’re_ the one who can’t fucking _talk_ to me, who can’t have a conversation with your _best friend_. I thought I was supposed to _mean something_ to you,” Tadashi says, his voice almost a yell. He sounds so desperate, gasping for air like he’s about to choke.

 

Tsukki looks _pissed._ “You think you can tell _me_ that?” Tsukki asks. His voice has gone all low and terrifying, and Tadashi takes a step back. Tsukki follows him. “Maybe you are as fucked up and emotional as you seem to think you are,” Tsukki says, his eyes narrowed but the rest of his face calm, like he doesn’t even care that he’s cutting Tadashi to the bone.

 

It feels like the world has stopped. Tadashi can feel himself losing it, the anger and the hurt and the _fear_ flaring through his veins all hot and overwhelming. “You _never_ fucking cared about me at _all_ —” and raises a hand up like he’s going to smack Tsukki across the face, and maybe he is. But—

 

Tsukki grabs Tadashi’s wrist out of the air with a low growl. “Don’t test me, _sweetheart,_ ” he says, backing up with Tadashi’s arm tight in his grip until Tadashi’s back hits the wall and Tsukki is towering over him, his eyes dark as he scowls and moves so close their hips are almost touching, their legs already tangled. Tadashi’s breathing _stops._

 

Tsukki is looking down at him like nothing else exists. Tadashi’s heart is pounding on anger and adrenaline, on the fear of his secrets being laid bare, on the fear of them _not_. But there’s a new heat, too, the kind that comes from someone knocking you back into a wall and pressing you in against it, the kind that makes Tadashi choke on desire instead of rage, his blood singing for Tsukki to cage him in and ravage him, leave his lips kiss-swollen and red, his throat bruised purple from the force of Tsukki’s teeth. He thinks about Tsukki going all gentle and sweet, drawing back from the edge of desperation into some soft look, their foreheads pressed together, lips parted on words of reassurance and _joy_ at finally getting to have this, and—

 

And then Tadashi realizes what he’s thinking, and all the heat leaves him at once as sorrow for what will never be takes over and Tadashi starts to cry.

 

“You never cared about me at all,” Tadashi says again, quieter this time. He looks up and sees that Tsukki has apparently read the mood enough to look down at him in concern instead of frustration. The grip around Tadashi’s wrist is looser, more a careful hold than a desperate clutch, and Tsukki’s face has gone confused, his brow no longer furrowed in anger but in concern.

 

“Tadashi,” he says, nearly a whisper. “Tadashi, what—what can I do?”

 

Tadashi’s heart skips. “What?” He feels another round of tears spill down his cheeks, and he raises his left arm to wipe them away.

 

“Tell me what to do to help,” Tsukki says, the words quiet, like Tsukki is uncertain of whether he should even be saying them. He looks almost as stoic as usual, but for someone who’s been reading Tsukki for nearly half of his life, it’s easy to see the worry behind the expressionless mask. Tadashi can’t even resent him the harsh tone in his voice, because it’s Tsukki, and this is how Tsukki is, and Tadashi loves him so much he might die for it. “Because I’m terrible at this, and you have to help me,” Tsukki says. “Otherwise I won’t know.”

 

“It’s okay, Tsukki.”

 

“Anything I can do for you, I will. Just tell me. _Please._ ”

 

Tadashi feels himself sob a little bit more, but he gives in. Tsukki _never_ says please.

 

“You—could hold me,” Tadashi says. “I’m—I think I’m going to cry for a while, so—”

 

Tsukki yanks him into a hug so hard that all the air rushes out of Tadashi’s lungs. Tsukki presses them back against the wall until Tadashi hardly has to use his legs to remain standing, his weight supported by the long line of Tsukki all in front of him. Tadashi clings to Tsukki’s shoulders and sobs, the gasps and moans muffled into Tsukki’s shirt, and if Tsukki’s posture feels a little bit tense at first, he relaxes as Tadashi’s sobs turn to whimpers and then eventually subside, until finally they’re just standing there, Tadashi’s head aching with the aftermath of tears, and Tsukki holding him through it.

 

Tadashi takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks. “Thanks, Tsukki.”

 

Tsukki growls low in his throat and presses Tadashi even harder against the wall of the club room. “Yamaguchi—Tadashi. I care about you, but I’m terrible at this. All of this. I don’t feel things right. So I don’t know what to do, and you have to tell me. But if you just tell me, I’ll…I’ll do whatever you need. I don’t know what you’re hiding, and it’s killing me that I don’t know, and I’m taking it out on you, which is illogical and I _hate_ it. But if you would just trust me… You’re my best friend, Tadashi. You’re my best friend, and nothing you can say or do will ever change that.”

 

And that.

 

That’s the thing that rips through Tadashi’s chest and leaves him collapsed in Tsukki’s arms, taking a leap of faith because there’s nothing else he can do.

 

“I have a lot of scars,” Tadashi says, tilting his head up so he’s speaking into Tsukki’s throat instead of his chest. His heart is aching with all the emotion running through him, his teeth working at his bottom lip in fear and worry. Tsukki has both of Tadashi’s wrists clutched in his hands, and Tadashi feels the way his grip tightens and then goes gentle again.

 

“What do you mean,” Tsukki says, carefully, like he already knows and is just waiting for confirmation.

 

“I mean…what you think I mean. I’m sorry, Tsukki.”

 

Tsukki just nods. “Okay. That’s what I thought. But. Okay.”

 

“What’s wrong with you,” Tadashi says back, almost a joke.

 

But. “I don’t eat,” Tsukki says, the words rushing out like he’s been waiting to say them. Like maybe he’s been waiting for a long time. “I know I get mad when people call me on it, but it’s just because they’re right. I don’t eat, because—I don’t know. I know I should—I don’t know.”

 

Tadashi nods. “No, I know. I get it, I know. I—I think the same thing. Like, I shouldn’t be doing this, but…”

 

Tsukki presses him harder into the wall, burying his nose in Tadashi’s hair. “We should tell our parents. But I don’t want to get in trouble.”

 

And Tadashi realizes, right then, that maybe Tsukishima has been as terrified all this time as he has, but it’s manifested in a different way. “I know. I know. I don’t know what to do either. Just—please don’t tell. Please.”

 

Tsukki nods. “I won’t tell. I’ve got you. I just—Yamaguchi— _Tadashi_. We’re okay, right?”

 

Tadashi sighs out a laugh that’s almost hysterical on relief. “Yeah. We’re okay. We’re, like, _not_ okay, really, but we’re handling it.”

 

Tsukki relaxes against Tadashi and finally draws back enough for them to make eye contact. “But _us_ , as friends. As _us._ We’re okay, right?”

 

Tadashi is shocked, but he nods. “Yes, of course. Were you worried?”

 

Tsukki nods, bites his lip, looks more vulnerable than Tadashi has ever seen him. “It’s been weird for a long time. Probably since all of this started. Why did this even happen in the first place? Did something happen?”

 

 _I realized I was in love with you,_ Tadashi almost says, but he doesn’t, because he knows that there’s a lot more to it than that, that his history of self-harm isn’t something that was triggered or will be fixed by the love of someone else.

 

“I don’t know,” he says instead. “Maybe we’ve always been headed this way, like everything that’s ever happened to us has just…made us like this.”

 

Tsukki nods. “Do you think…the rest of them. The team.”

 

“Do they know, or do they do this kind of stuff too?”

 

Tsukki shakes his head. “Both, I guess.”

 

Tadashi offers a weak grin. “I don’t know. I sometimes play the virgin game, except it’s the self-harm game. Like, who in this room has ever cut themselves, or something like that.”

 

Tsukki nods, but he doesn’t respond. It takes almost a minute before he manages to speak again. “We should get back,” he says, and Tadashi knows the moment has passed.

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, we probably should. The team will be wondering where we are.”

 

Tsukki looks him over once, his gaze long and lingering. “What do you want to do?”

 

Tadashi thinks of the path ahead of them and puts on the strongest grin he can muster. “I don’t know. But whatever we decide, we should do it together.”

 

Tsukki nods and looks satisfied if still a little uncertain, and together, they exit the darkness of the club room and head back to the bright lights and brighter yells coming from the gym.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, additional warnings for descriptions of disordered eating and references to self-harm (although this chapter does not contain any descriptions of this behavior actually happening). Internalized acephobia and general lack of knowledge about sexual/romantic orientations are present here too, although nothing nonconsensual happens or is referenced. There is also a little bit of referenced emotional abuse, but it's very vague (and is based on things that happen in other works in this series).
> 
> As always, this is only one portrayal of eating disorders and self-harm; I wanted to capture the reality I have seen, which is that many, many people never seek treatment and try to continue with everyday life despite having unhealthy coping mechanisms, eating disorders, and other disorders. That said, I do not believe this is a good way of handling these problems, and I hope that the stigma against mental illness will eventually be dismantled so that people who need help will feel empowered to seek it.
> 
> Anyways. This really got away from me (the story and this author's note, haha). Let me know what you think.

 

 

 

 

Of all the places where this could have finally happened, the club room is not the place Kei would have expected, nor the place he would have chosen.

 

“Something is wrong,” Kei says, or more finds himself saying, really, because he honestly doesn’t quite mean to. It’s just—Tadashi is acting all weird about pulling up his socks and straightening his shorts, almost like he’s trying to keep something covered up; his expression looks stricken in a way that has Kei’s blood running cold because something is wrong, something is _so wrong—_

 

“What are you talking about?” Tadashi says, his eyelashes fluttering and his expression vacant in a way that makes Kei feel even worse.

 

“Stop.” Kei can feel this vibrant sort of panic welling up in him, and he wonders if this is what Tadashi had been feeling that time he broke down in the gym. “Something is wrong.” Kei’s heart is racing with adrenaline. “Tell me.”

 

Kei can hear how horrible it sounds when he says it. Can hear the way his voice goes low and cold, designed to evoke fear, to demand acquiescence. Tadashi goes stiff and horrified, his expression struck through with terror. He looks like a wild animal preparing to fight or flee.

 

And then the fear dissolves into anger. “What do you want me to say, _Tsukki,_ ” Tadashi says, his voice loud as if to evoke hurt even if the words themselves aren’t really that biting.

 

“You could just tell me the truth,” Tsukki says, stepping in towards Tadashi, who glares up at him in equal parts fear and frustration. His few centimeters of extra height force Tadashi’s chin back, and it’s a little bit scary, Kei thinks, how Tadashi shrinks back towards the wall a little as if he’s going to be hurt. Kei needs to slow down, he needs to back up, but—

 

“ _Fuck you,_ Tsukki. You want _me_ to tell _you_ the truth? _You’re_ the one who can’t fucking _talk_ to me, who can’t have a conversation with your _best friend_. I thought I was supposed to _mean something_ to you.” Tadashi is hyperventilating, his eyes wide on emotions Kei can’t parse.

 

Kei is suddenly _livid._ “You think can tell _me_ that? Maybe you are as fucked up and emotional as you seem to think you are,” he says, the words designed to cut deep.

 

Tadashi looks like he might start crying. “You _never_ fucking cared about me at _all_ ,” he says, his arm coming up from his side whip-quick, but Kei raises his hand to catch Tadashi’s wrist, the soft skin beneath Kei’s palm devastatingly fragile. He’s going to leave bruises.

 

“Don’t test me, _sweetheart,_ ” Kei says, stepping in to press Tadashi against the wall. It feels almost like Kei has been possessed.

 

There’s a moment where Tadashi’s expression goes all spacey and unfocused, his cheeks flushed red with anger, his lips just barely parted like he’s about to speak. There are tears in his eyes and he’s trembling; Kei can feel it beneath his too-strong grip.

 

And then Tadashi crumbles. His chin dips forward, all the air rushing out of his lungs in a gasp. Kei can hear the moment the tears starts, a barrage of hiccupping sobs coming quick as Tadashi’s shoulders slump in defeat.

 

“You never cared about me at all,” Tadashi says again, but this time it’s a whimper. Kei can feel the shift in the air around them, the pulse that turns the scene from a fight to a surrender. He’s sure that if he pushes now, he can take Tadashi down, force the answers that he wants, but—

 

That isn’t what he wants. Kei has never wanted to hurt Tadashi. Not even on the occasions when he had. _Especially_ not on the occasions when he had.

 

He forces his grip loose, presses his other hand against Tadashi’s shoulder. “Tadashi,” he murmurs, “Tadashi, what—what can I do?”

 

“What?” Tadashi says, lifting his head just enough to wipe at his tears with his free hand.

 

“Tell me what to do to help,” Kei whispers, uncertain. “Because I’m terrible at this, and you have to help me. Otherwise I won’t know.”

 

Tadashi just looks sad. “It’s okay, Tsukki.”

 

Kei takes a breath. Prepares to be genuine, to be brave. “Anything I can do for you, I will. Just tell me,” he says, and then, because he means it— _fuck,_ he means it: “ _Please._ ”

 

Tadashi sobs a little more as he hears the entreaty, and he bites his lip before he speaks. “You—could hold me. I’m—I think I’m going to cry for a while, so—”

 

Kei pulls Tadashi forward as quick as he dares, his arms coming to wrap as tight as he can around Tadashi’s smaller frame, which fits so perfectly in Kei’s arms. It always has. Kei has always known this.

 

They stand there a long time. Tadashi cries himself out and Kei strokes gentle hands along Tadashi’s arms, his sides, his shoulders. Tadashi is collapsed between Kei and the wall, and Kei hopes no one will come in and see them like this because that’s the last thing Tadashi would want, and Kei just wants Tadashi to feel better. That’s all he’s wanted, this entire time, but he doesn’t know what to do. He’s 17: just a kid, really, when he thinks about it.

 

“Thanks, Tsukki.” Tadashi’s voice rouses Kei from his musings, and he growls a little as he pushes himself even closer to Tadashi.

 

“Yamaguchi—Tadashi. I care about you, but I’m terrible at this. All of this. I don’t feel things right. So I don’t know what to do, and you have to tell me. But if you just tell me, I’ll…I’ll do whatever you need. I don’t know what you’re hiding, and it’s killing me that I don’t know, and I’m taking it out on you, which is illogical and I _hate_ it. But if you would just trust me… You’re my best friend, Tadashi. You’re my best friend, and nothing you can say or do will ever change that.”

 

Tadashi’s posture droops even more, his whole frame demonstrating his utter exhaustion, Kei the only thing keeping him up, maybe. “I have a lot of scars,” he whispers, and Kei’s eyes slam shut, because he knows. He’s suspected for a while now.

 

He still has to make sure. “What do you mean,” he says, and he _knows_ Tadashi knows he knows, it’s kind of stupid, really, the chain they’re forming here of _I know he knows I know he knows WE know—_

“I mean…what you think I mean. I’m sorry, Tsukki.”

 

Kei nods. “Okay. That’s what I thought. But. Okay.”

 

“What’s wrong with you,” Tadashi says, his voice all raw and gravelly from crying even as he attempts to sound lighthearted.

 

Kei can’t help but freeze. But if Tadashi is coming clean, then so is Kei. That’s how they’re supposed to work, because they’re best friends, even if they’ve been bad at it lately. They shouldn’t be keeping secrets.

 

So: “I don’t eat,” Kei admits, the first time he’s ever said it out loud. “I know I get mad when people call me on it, but it’s just because they’re right. I don’t eat, because—I don’t know. I know I should—I don’t know.”

 

Tadashi is nodding into Kei’s chest now. “No, I know. I get it, I know,” he says, and Kei realizes he probably does. “I—I think the same thing. Like, I shouldn’t be doing this, but…”

 

Kei leans against Tadashi so they’re practically a heap against the wall. It’s a wonder they’re standing. “We should tell our parents,” Kei says in a burst of fear. “But I don’t want to get in trouble.”

 

“I know,” Tadashi says. “I know. I don’t know what to do either. Just—please don’t tell. Please.”

 

“I won’t tell,” Kei swears, because he was never really going to. He wouldn’t do that, not without Tadashi’s permission. Which—well, maybe he should get. Maybe they _do_ need to tell an adult about this, because they’re 17, they’re _kids,_ and yet—

 

Of course he’s not going to tell. About Tadashi, or about himself.

 

“I’ve got you. I just—Yamaguchi— _Tadashi._ We’re okay, right?”

 

Tadashi’s laugh sounds like shattering glass. “Yeah. We’re okay. We’re, like, _not_ okay, really, but we’re handling it.”

 

Kei pulls away to makes eye contact. “But _us,_ as friends. As _us,_ ” he amends. “We’re okay, right?”

 

Tadashi nods, vehement. “Yes, of course. Were you worried?”

 

Kei nods, because he was. “It’s been weird for a long time. Probably since all of this started. Why did this even happen in the first place? Did something happen?”

 

Tadashi shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ve always been headed this way, like everything that’s ever happened to us has just…made us like this.”

 

Kei sighs and nods. “Do you think…the rest of them. The team.”

 

“Do they know, or do they do this kind of stuff too?”

 

“Both, I guess.”

 

“I don’t know. I sometimes play the virgin game, except it’s the self-harm game. Like, who in this room has ever cut themselves, or something like that.”

 

It takes Kei a minute to respond, and even then he knows there’s nothing more he can say, not here. Not now. They need to sit down and have Real Talk, as Suga used to call it in his joking-but-a-little-bit-serious way when he was about to say something important, or when he was worried about something and needed to confide in Daichi-san. Daichi could fix anything for Suga. Anything.

 

But for now, this is enough. They can have Real Talk later. “We should get back,” Kei says, ready. Calm.

 

“Yeah, we probably should,” Tadashi says. “The team will be wondering where we are.”

 

Kei looks Tadashi up and down. He looks like he’s been crying. Kei can divert them on the way to the gym, have Tadashi splash some water on his face in the locker room. “What do you want to do?” Kei asks, just because it feels like a good final question.

 

Tadashi looks pensive, and he’s calmed down a lot. “I don’t know,” he settles on, “But whatever we decide, we should do it together.”

 

Kei nods, and ushers them out of the club room, and together they make their way to the locker room and then the gym to finish practice.

 

Tadashi nails his jump float serve over and over. Kei’s blocks are infallible. There’s something to be said for the power of catharsis with your best friend.

 

Nothing is fixed, really, but it’s a step in the right direction. Of that, Kei is sure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their opportunity for Real Talk comes at the end of the week. There are no club activities on Saturday because it’s a holiday, so Kei asks Tadashi after school on Friday if he wants to sleep over. Tadashi looks nervous, obviously aware that the night won’t be easy, but he swallows and nods.

 

“You’re my best friend, right?” Tadashi says, as they start the short walk home. “Nothing will change that.”

 

Kei nods. “Yes.”

 

Tadashi still looks worried.

 

They walk home together, meandering their way through the narrow streets and exchanging small bits of conversation that set Kei at ease: why today’s school-provided lunch was Tadashi’s favorite of the week, whether their upcoming exams will be difficult, Kei’s adamant belief that the tuna-mayo onigiri from Lawson are way better than the ones from Family Mart.

 

“Seriously, Tadashi,” he says, kind of wondering if that’s going to become a normal thing from now on, his calling Tadashi by his given name instead of his family name. “Seriously. I got the Family Mart onigiri _one time_ and it was terrible.”

 

“The umeboshi ones are fine,” Tadashi says, grinning a little and twirling a finger through his hair. Now that they’re away from everyone else, on their way home, Tadashi seems more relaxed.

 

“Yeah, well, the problem is that the Family Mart ones don’t have enough filling. But umeboshi is strong anyways, so you don’t _need_ that much filling.”

 

“I guess that’s true,” Tadashi says, biting his lip. “The tuna-mayo-wasabi ones are good, though. From Family Mart.”

 

“Why are you so set on defending Family Mart here?” Kei asks, amused.

 

Tadashi looks over and smiles. “I’m just saying! Anyways, the Family Mart is way closer to your house than the Lawson! So you have to go out of the way to indulge your obsession with Lawson onigiri!”

 

Kei shrugs. “I don’t want the umeboshi ones, and I don’t want the tuna-mayo-wasabi ones because they don’t have enough mayo and all the wasabi always ends up in _one bite_. Give me even distribution of this substance or what’s the point?”

 

“I _like_ the one bite that has the wasabi in it!”

 

“Enough to put up with the fact that every other bite contains a bad ratio of tuna to mayo?”

 

“You are way too set on this mayo thing!” Tadashi says, grinning. Some sort of tingling affection flicks its way through Kei’s abdomen. Tadashi’s eyes are shining; he looks genuinely _happy._

 

Kei’s house comes into sight. “Come on, we can have a snack and watch something.”

 

“Hey! We could play cards! We haven’t done that in ages!”

 

“Yeah, because we only know one game that you can play with two people,” Kei says, although the protest is half-hearted at best.

 

Tadashi laughs. “Which we haven’t played in ages!”

 

Kei lets them into the house and calls an “I’m home!” even though he’s pretty sure his mom’s not there. Sure enough, his shout gets no response, so he and Tadashi slip out of their shoes and raid the kitchen before heading upstairs. No one will notice if they eat all the potato chips, right?

 

But as they find themselves alone and Kei realizes the intensity of the conversation they’re going to have at some point, he finds that he really doesn’t want to eat anything.

 

Kei ignores it and focuses instead on the bright white of Tadashi’s smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You think you can tell me now?” Tadashi asks late that night, flicking off the light and climbing onto the futon next to Tadashi. There’s a spare futon on the floor because Kei’s parents had been around the house all evening, and it would’ve been weird to explain to them that Kei and Tadashi would be having an important conversation in the middle of the night that would require them to share the bed, and therefore the spare futon would be unnecessary. Kei sets his glasses on the nightstand and situates himself beneath the covers; he and Tadashi are like they were after the party the previous summer, almost a year ago now, a pair of parentheses on a tiny futon, their foreheads close so they can meet each other’s eyes even though Kei’s vision is blurred with myopia.

 

“Okay,” Kei says, strangely nervous. Tadashi is playing with the fingers of Kei’s left hand, and the contact is making him antsy. “Yamaguchi, stop touching me. It’s freaking me out.”

 

Tadashi looks taken aback, but he pulls away. “Sorry. Thanks for telling me.”

 

Kei takes a deep breath. “It’s fine. I just need to not be distracted right now.”

 

Tadashi nods and Kei knows he understands.

 

But then he has to talk. “I don’t know where to start,” Kei admits.

 

Tadashi bites his lip. “Whatever is fine. Start whenever, and then if you realize you missed something, it’s fine. You can just go back.”

 

Kei nods. “It doesn’t happen that often. Just when something bothers me. I don’t know. It’s not that I’m trying to not eat, usually. I just always feel sick when I’m upset about something.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, I remember when we were little and your mom made you go to the doctor for those tests. Like, to see if you were allergic to stuff, because you always complained about having a stomachache.”

 

Kei nods. He feels an urge to stop, to shut the conversation down, but he’s come this far. “I feel stupid saying this.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Tadashi says. “At least you’re not the one taking a torn-open shaving razor to your ankle.”

 

Kei sucks in a breath, his eyes slamming shut. “How did I not know?”

 

Tadashi is grinning when Kei opens his eyes. “Tsukki, it’s fine. I spent a lot of time and effort hiding it.”

 

Kei takes a breath to collect himself. “Only your ankle?”

 

Tadashi averts his eyes. “No…I can show you, if you want?”

 

Kei nods. He’s afraid to see, but he needs the visible confirmation of it. Tadashi is kind of self-consciously tugging off his baggy pajama bottoms, leaving him only in his briefs and Kei’s t-shirt, which Tadashi always sleeps in when he stays over, because it’s apparently softer than anything Tadashi owns.

 

“You might have to turn on the light again,” Tadashi says. “It’s really hard to see them. I think that’s part of why I keep making more, actually, because it’s like—partially a visual thing for me, I guess? Like, if I’m hurting on the inside, why can’t anyone ever see it on the outside? So…this is a way to make it more tangible. So it’s obvious, and I can keep hold of it.”

 

“The hurt?”

 

“The memory of fighting something and coming out alive,” Tadashi says. “I know it—it doesn’t make sense. It just…” Tadashi trails off. He looks defeated. “It makes sense in my head. I’m sorry, Tsukki.”

 

Kei shakes his head, his eyes roving along the dark imprint of scarred skin on Tadashi’s hip. “I thought you said it didn’t leave enough of a mark,” he says, unable to look away.

 

“That’s from the iron,” Tadashi says. “The, um, the burns scar better than the cuts, and I think…like, it’s not as dangerous. Probably.”

 

“As cutting.”

 

Tadashi nods. “I don’t like blood. It makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.”

 

“So you switched.”

 

“Yeah. A few months ago.”

 

Kei keeps looking, but Tadashi is right: aside from the marks so vivid and pink on his left hip, there’s nothing to see in the dark. “Tadashi,” Kei asks, “Can I turn on the light?”

 

Tadashi nods. “Okay, Tsukki.”

 

They’re still not really all that visible once Kei has flipped on the lamp on his nightstand. Kei thinks he can see the tracery of pinkish marks right above Tadashi’s right knee, and there’s a big patch of splotchy scar tissue around Tadashi’s ankle, not as bright as the splotch on his hip but definitely there.

 

“You can see the cuts on my other ankle, like, after I take a shower or a bath or whatever. The hot water makes them get all red.”

 

Kei nods. He has the strangest urge to reach out and touch, but he’s not sure that he should. Tadashi hasn’t given him that sort of consent, and Kei is too nervous and uncertain about his own emotions to ask.

 

“Does it help?”

 

Tadashi thinks. “Yeah,” he says, finally. “I mean, obviously I keep doing it, so…yeah.”

 

“Have you tried to stop?”

 

“Yeah,” Tadashi says. “Of course I’ve tried. And…I don’t know, I probably could, if I really had to. But…there’s, like, no incentive. To not do it, I mean. I know that sounds terrible.”

 

“It sounds sad,” Kei says. “I don’t mean ‘pathetic’ or something. It just makes me sad. That you feel like you have to do that. That it helps.”

 

Tadashi swallows. “Do you ever think about…if you weren’t here?”

 

Kei lets out a breath. “Yes,” he admits, and it’s like something in him is kind of snapping, like—“I think about it, and I think that it would be fine.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, I know, me too. Me too.” They’re quiet for a long few seconds, maybe even a minute, and Tadashi turns off the lamp. “We’ve been hurting each other all this time trying to hide this when really, we were feeling the same things, weren’t we? Just in different ways, kind of, like—I don’t know. I feel stupid. I should’ve _told_ you.”

 

“You should have told me from the beginning,” Kei agrees, suddenly angry at both of them. “I should have told you. We could have avoided all this angst and skipped straight to the honesty.”

 

“I thought—we were always honest as kids. We didn’t ever hide anything. It felt so weird to suddenly start.”

 

“As kids we didn’t have anything to hide.”

 

“I was a coward who got bullied all the time but I wasn’t afraid to show that to you.”

 

“I was terrible with emotions and loved dinosaurs way too much.”

 

Tadashi giggles, but it’s a little bit sad. “Yeah, and then we grew up, and it was like—when everything got so _real,_ we just lost all our faith in each other. And that’s—why did we do that? Why did we feel like we couldn’t trust each other anymore?”

 

Kei swallows and looks down at the futon. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I just don’t know how to talk about this.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Okay, Tsukki. And I—I guess it’s not that I didn’t trust you, either. I just thought it was something I should take care of on my own. I didn’t want to burden you.”

 

“You’re not a burden, Tadashi. Besides, I always tell you when you’re getting on my nerves.” The words come out harsh, and Kei is worried that Tadashi will take them the wrong way.

 

But Tadashi grins. “You are unbelievably mean.”

 

Kei feels his lips flick up into a wicked grin. “The world needs my realistic outlook or it might get too optimistic and forget its place.”

 

They devolve into snickering that gets so loud it wakes Kei’s mom, but she only bangs on the door and tells them to be quiet and go to sleep. They try harder to whisper, but they don’t fall asleep until nearly 4 o’clock in the morning, their conversation lighthearted and fun, the way it’s supposed to be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Third year flies by, and before Kei knows it, their birthdays have both passed, leaving them 18 and startlingly not-young. It’s winter, then, and the flu starts going around, and half the school is out sick while everyone else goes to class wearing masks. Hinata gets the flu right before winter break, and Kageyama is suspiciously absent for a week even though he never mentions anything about being sick too.

 

Kei and Tadashi get lucky and stay healthy.

 

By the time mid-January rolls around, everyone is freaking out about the university entrance exams at the end of the month, and about the second round at the end of February. Tadashi and Kei are both aiming for Tohoku like many of the people in their class, although they’ve each selected a few other schools that are easier to get into just in case. It’s terrifying and difficult, and everyone is a mess. Kei does everything he can to keep Tadashi in good spirits, and Tadashi keeps snacks around perpetually so that Kei can kind of graze through some calories without feeling uncomfortable about it even when he’s too tense to let himself eat a full meal.

 

“You want to study this weekend again? I still need help with English,” Kei says during lunch one day. Tadashi is looking a little pale, and he’s picking at his lunch. “Are you okay?”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Just not that hungry.”

 

Kei nods and forces himself to finish a couple more bites of his own food. Tadashi is quiet, almost spacey, and Kei suddenly worries that it might be a Bad Day.

 

“Tadashi,” he says as they throw their trash away, Tadashi’s plate still mostly full, “Don’t shut me out. Remember what happens when we do that.”

 

“I just feel a little bit weird,” Tadashi says. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Probably just stress. The exam is in two weeks.”

 

Kei puts a hand on Tadashi’s forehead. It doesn’t feel hot, but then Kei isn’t sure he would actually be able to tell if it were.

 

“What are you doing?” Tadashi is looking up at him with this kind of hazy look in his eyes.

 

“Just checking,” Kei says. He pulls his hand away. Class resumes.

 

By the end of the day, Tadashi can barely sit up.

 

“Tsukki,” he says, “I don’t feel good.”

 

“Vertigo?” Kei asks, but that doesn’t seem like it, because Kei knows the symptoms of Tadashi’s vertigo well by now, and this isn’t the same.

 

“No. I hurt _everywhere_ ,” Tadashi says in a startlingly weak voice, and that’s when Kei gets it.

 

“The flu,” he says. “You have the flu. That’s why it came on so suddenly. And why you’re all achy.” Kei puts his hand on Tadashi’s forehead and this time, yeah, he’s definitely burning up.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi whimpers, and Kei puts a hand on Tadashi’s cheek to get him to make eye contact. He kneels on the floor next to Tadashi’s desk, his jaw clenched with worry.

 

“Tadashi, I’m going to take you home. Can you hold on to me if I give you a piggy back?”

 

Tadashi lets himself fall forward in his chair so he’s leaning against Kei’s shoulder. “I can hold on. I’m not—I just feel so—ugh, why does it feel like this?”

 

Kei huffs a breath as he turns and lets Tadashi clutch onto him from behind. “Come on. You’ll be okay. You’ll feel better once you’re at home.”

 

“I want to sleep.”

 

“You can when you get home.”

 

“I’ll have to go to the doctor.”

 

Kei grabs Tadashi’s wrists and hoists him up higher on his back. “Yeah, I know, and it’s a pain in the ass, so I’m sorry. I’m going to take you down to the gym and then I’ll come back and get your stuff.”

 

“You can just take me to the nurse, it’s fine—”

 

“I know you hate the nurse. Hinata will take care of you while I get our backpacks. It won’t take long.”

 

They make their arduous way to the gym, and when Kei comes in carrying Tadashi on his back, Tadashi’s face pressed into Kei’s neck and his body mostly limp, Hinata and Kageyama both rush over in concern.

 

Well, actually, Kageyama probably only came over because Hinata did.

 

“What’s wrong? Tsukishima, why is Yamaguchi-kun like that? Is he okay?” Hinata chirps.

 

“No, dumbass, he’s obviously not okay,” Kageyama snaps back, making Hinata stick out his tongue.

 

“He has the flu,” Kei says. “I need to go get his stuff from the classroom—oh, and his shoes from the shoe lockers. And then I’m taking him home.”

 

Takeda-sensei walks up, his expression all earnest and concerned the way it gets when something is wrong. He has apparently heard at least part of the conversation, because he joins in without asking what’s going on. “Tsukishima-kun, Yamaguchi-kun—oh, no, Tsukishima-kun, how will you get him home?”

 

Kei sets Tadashi down into Hinata’s lap and eyes Takeda-sensei with a cool, calculating glance. “I can carry him.”

 

“Call his mother,” Kageyama deadpans. “I didn’t try to carry Hinata home when he got the flu all over me, even if he’s tiny and I wanted to,” he says, and then blushes, and then just walks away.

 

“I did not get the flu all over you!” Hinata yells, although if Kei remembers correctly, which he definitely does, then yeah, Hinata had been all over Kageyama with the flu exactly the way Tadashi is all over both Hinata _and_ Kei right now. Tadashi is kind of whimpering, and Kei can tell that having the flu really, honestly hurts.

 

“I’ll call her,” Takeda-sensei offers. “Someone go get Yamaguchi-kun’s stuff.”

 

“I’ll do it,” one of the first years offers, but Kei shakes his head, trying not to look too scary. After all, Hinata is always yelling at him about how he needs to stop glaring at their kouhai. Hinata yells that at Kageyama a lot, too. Those two make a very interesting pair of co-captains, really.

 

Kei doesn’t try to smile at the first year because he knows it looks creepy, but he does lower his voice so he doesn’t sound too terrifying. “I’m the only one who knows what he needs. We’re in the same class, so I can just do it.”

 

Yachi runs over. “I got a flu shot, so I can stay here with him to make him feel better while you go get the stuff. Hinata-kun and I will do our best to comfort him!”

 

Hinata nods, his expression as serious as it ever gets.

 

Kei feels himself sigh relief. “Okay. Thank you, Yachi-san.” It’s a little weird to be referring to her so formally, but something about the depth of his gratitude seems to warrant it.

 

Yachi looks at him like she knows some important secret, but she nods. “It’s fine, Tsukishima-san. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

 

Which—that’s a weird thing to say, right? Kei mulls it over as he returns to their classroom for both their bags, making sure he grabs all their assignments as well. He’ll have to get the week’s assignments from their teachers so he can bring them to Tadashi every day after practice, and he’ll make sure to take extra notes so he can teach everything to Tadashi later, and—

 

And it was weird, right? What Yachi had said? _Thank you for trusting me with this._

 

Kei can’t figure it out, and eventually he just lets it go. Tadashi’s mom is already there when he gets back to the gym, and he hands her Tadashi’s bag and helps Tadashi into the car, and then Yamaguchi-san is driving away, off to the doctor’s and then home.

 

Practice is incredibly boring without Tadashi there to be mean with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ So, what’s the verdict?

 

 _Yamachan:_ Have to stay home the rest of the week. Maybe the beginning of next week too. :(

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ Did you change your LINE display name?

 

 _Yamachan:_ Yeah, this morning. Hinata was talking about the restaurant and said it would be funny if I made that my LINE name.

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ Yamachan isn’t even that good. Torikizoku is so much better.

 

 _Yamachan:_ They’re, like, not really the same thing though, so it’s hard to compare them! And Torikizoku really takes liberties with the way they write their kanji, it’s like, what the hell, there shouldn’t be a circle at the top! THERE IS NO CIRCLE IN THAT KANJI! Or in like ANY kanji! Circles are for Korean!

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ Aren’t you supposed to have the flu? Stop spending whatever energy you might have ranting about low-quality chain restaurants and the way they stylize their kanji.

 

 _Yamachan:_ Yamachan and Torikizoku are medium-quality at worst, Tsukki! And I didn’t say anything about Yamachan’s kanji, because they know how to write it properly!

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ Go to sleep. I’ll bring you your homework tomorrow.

 

 _Yamachan:_ I can’t sleep. I feel too sick. I still hurt all over. Stay up and text me until I pass out?

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ I’m doing the chemistry homework. I’ll call you so we can talk and I’ll have my hands free to write.

 

 _Yamachan:_ Okay! My throat hurts, so you have to do most of the talking.

 

 _Tsukishima Kei:_ I’m not going to talk any more than I normally do. Hold on.

 

_You were in a call with Yamachan_

_Duration 1:19:24_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tadashi comes back to school a week later wearing a mask and looking a little bit worse for wear. He’s pale, or at least the parts of his face that are visible under the mask are, and his eyes still have that glazy quality that sick people’s eyes always have. Kei has been bringing him homework all week, but they haven’t been face to face since Kei loaded Tadashi into Yamaguchi-san’s car the day he’d fallen ill. With entrance exams coming up so soon, they both agreed that Kei couldn’t afford to get sick, and it would be better for Kei to just hand the homework off to Tadashi’s mom.

 

The first two days Tadashi is back, he walks around like a zombie, and Kei has to monitor him constantly to make sure he’s not going to fall over. Tadashi feels thinner when Kei has to steady him as they walk out the door at the end of the day, and during practice, Tadashi sits on the sideline looking like he’d rather be sleeping. Kei’s heart pounds every time he looks over and sees Tadashi curled up underneath a jumble of his own jacket and Kei’s, his face still shrouded by the mask, his eyes bright with the lingering effects of the flu.

 

Finally, on the third day Tadashi is back, he’s much more himself, his eyes clearer even if he’s still wearing the mask.

 

“Feeling better now?” Kei asks as they walk to school in the morning. He still feels the urge to reach out and grab Tadashi’s arm as they walk, and he’s almost disappointed that Tadashi is totally steady now, completely back to normal.

 

“Yeah, so much better! I probably should have stayed home the past two days too, but the exam is in a week and a half. I can’t miss any more school. I have to—we have to get into the same places,” Tadashi says, suddenly sounding a little uncertain.

 

“You’ll be fine. We can have a study marathon this weekend and go over everything.”

 

“My room is still a quarantined area, Tsukki. My mom has already cleaned it, like, six times, but I’m pretty sure she’s still not done with the disinfectant.”

 

“You can come to my house, then. I did some research on the flu, and you’re not contagious anymore. You probably don’t even really need the mask.”

 

“But Tsukki, masks are so cute! Don’t you think?” Tadashi asks, turning to look at Kei. He’s obviously grinning beneath the mask, his eyes all scrunched up and bright with joy.

 

“No. What?” Kei says, injecting as much sarcasm into his voice as he can and then realizing the tone kind of makes it sound like he _does_ think they’re cute, and—

 

Shit. Whatever.

 

“Anyways, sure, Tsukki, I’ll come over this weekend. Double sleepover?”

 

“Yeah. Because we need to study.”

 

“I swear I will be the most focused I can be!”

 

“Well, considering you’re not Hinata, that is actually very reassuring.”

 

Tadashi laughs and it is light and clear and brilliant. “I think Kageyama and Hinata are studying together this weekend, too. Think they’ll just slack off and make out instead?”

 

Kei shakes his head. “No, I think they’ll slack off and play volleyball instead.”

 

Tadashi laughs again. Kei wonders how many times he can make Tadashi make that sound in a day, a week, a month, a year.

 

“Yeah, you’re right. Think we should tell them?”

 

“That they really want to stick their tongues down each other’s throats? Nah, I’d rather laugh at them while I wait to see how long it takes them to figure it out on their own.”

 

Tadashi laughs for the third time in, like, a minute.

 

Something about the sound makes Kei’s heart pound hard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kei gets the call at 2:36 a.m.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi gasps, his voice a harsh sob turned tinny and cracked across the distance of a phone call. He sounds shuddery and scared, not entirely present.

 

“Tadashi, what’s wrong?” Kei asks, throwing off the covers and scrambling into a sweatshirt and a pair of track pants. “Where are you?”

 

“Home—I’m…”

 

“Bedroom or bathroom?”

 

“Bedroom. I’m in bed,” Tadashi says.

 

Kei breathes a sigh of relief. Tadashi doesn’t hurt himself in his bedroom. It’s always the bathroom. Kei knows that from one of the late-night conversations they’ve been having regularly since the day they’d come clean in the club room.

 

“Okay, that’s good. Stay in bed. I’m coming over.”

 

“What? Tsukki, no, it’s fine, I’m—fine,” he says, his voice cracking halfway through.

 

Kei is already pulling on his shoes. “Tadashi,” he says, switching his phone from one ear to the other as he steps into his shoes as quietly as he can so as not to wake his parents. “Tadashi, tell me five things you can see right now.”

 

“Five things?”

 

“Yes. Five things. Anything.” Kei practically jumps through the door and locks it behind him, and then he’s off, jogging the three blocks from his house to Tadashi’s like the world will end if he can’t get there in time.

 

Hell, it might.

 

“Um,” Tadashi is saying in his ear, voice wavering as he chokes on air. His panic attacks always sound like this, but it still terrifies Kei every time. “The wall,” Tadashi says after a second. “And my futon cover.”

 

“What colors?”

 

“White. Both white. Well, the futon is, like, kind of beige.”

 

“Okay,” Kei says. “That’s two things. What else?” He’s two blocks away, but it might as well be two hundred miles.

 

Tadashi takes a shaky breath. “My hand. My fingernails.”

 

“That only counts as one,” Kei says, because Tadashi still sounds so fucking _panicked_ and it’s terrifying, and he needs to keep talking about what he can see to stay as grounded as possible while his brain chemicals spiral off into chaos.

 

“Okay. Some—thread. Stitches.”

 

“In the sheets?”

 

“Yeah. And my pillowcase.”

 

“Okay. I’m almost there, Tadashi. Tell me one more thing.”

 

Tadashi chokes around a sob. He sounds so scared and yet so quiet, and Kei is sure it’s because he’s trying not to wake his parents. “Tsukki,” Tadashi gasps.

 

Kei’s heart clenches hard in his chest. “Come on, Tadashi. Just one more thing. I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

“No, you—I have to open the door for you—”

 

“Okay, so tell me one more thing and then come open the door.”

 

“My nightstand.”

 

“What’s on it?”

 

“My lamp,” Tadashi gasps. “My lamp, and this manga I’m reading.”

 

“Water?”

 

The sound of Tadashi shifting around comes through the phone. “Yeah. I always have water on my nightstand.”

 

“I know. What else?”

 

“That’s five,” Tadashi says.

 

“Can you come get the door?”

 

There’s a pause while Tadashi breathes hard. “You’re here?”

 

“Yeah, but you have to unlock the door for me. You’ll be fine. I’m right downstairs.”

 

“Okay, Tsukki. Yeah, I can do it.” Tadashi’s voice sounds so scared, so utterly ruined, and Kei presses his forehead to Tadashi’s front door and waits.

 

It takes several long, torturous minutes, but then finally there’s the sound of gentle footsteps, a latch clicking, the door sliding open. Tadashi is standing there with his hair all rumpled like he’s been trying to tear it out, his eyes swollen and outlined in exhausted purple crescents, his expression far-off and devastated.

 

“Here,” Kei says, pushing inside and shutting the door behind him. His arms come up around Tadashi’s shoulders as they move towards the stairs. They climb together, and Tadashi is shaking violently, Kei’s hands the only thing keeping him upright, it seems, as they enter the bedroom.

 

“Come on. Lie down,” Kei says, voice firm but warm as he settles himself against the headboard and tugs Tadashi down to curl into Kei’s side, his head resting heavy on Kei’s stomach. “Breathe with me,” Kei instructs, his voice quiet in the dark of the bedroom.

 

It’s hard for Tadashi to maintain the rhythm at first, his lungs working overtime as he gasps and shakes, but then his sobbing turns to hiccups and eventually gentle tears, the worst of the panic attack over.

 

“You didn’t have to come over, you know. I’m just freaking out because of the entrance exams,” Tadashi says when his breathing has slowed, one hand pressed flat to Kei’s stomach. Tadashi is staring at his own fingers like he’s amazed they’re even there, and Kei reaches up without thinking to run a hand through Tadashi’s hair.

 

“It’s fine, Tadashi. And you said the exam wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be.”

 

“Yeah, but now I’m suddenly freaking out. You probably did way better than me.”

 

“The English was impossible. All that pronunciation stuff? I guessed on the first twenty questions, I think.”

 

Tadashi sighs a little, even smiles, although he’s pale and shaken up. “Nah, those were the easy ones. I blew right through them.”

 

“See?” Kei says, stroking hair off Tadashi’s cheek. “I’m sure you did fine.”

 

Tadashi huffs a breath, but his breathing slows some more.

 

“I don’t feel good,” Tadashi says after a minute of silence.

 

“Are you going to throw up?”

 

Tadashi groans. “No. I think if I lie still, I’ll be okay.”

 

“Okay. Let me know.” There’s a pause while Kei runs a careful hand down Tadashi’s spine, and then Kei says, “You should try to sleep if you can.”

 

“I’ll try,” Tadashi says. “But I don’t know.”

 

“That’s okay,” Kei says, trying to remember everything he’s read about panic attacks in the past few months, since Tadashi had said that maybe that’s what was happening when he started crying so hard he couldn’t breathe and ended up gasping on the floor, terrified. Kei remembers the first time it had happened, the day in the gym a memory that reminds Kei of just how badly he had handled that situation.

 

“I’m sorry, Tsukki.”

 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about the sleeping. Just rest. If you sleep, you sleep. If not, then that’s okay. Either way, I’ll be here.”

 

“Okay, Tsukki.”

 

They stay like that for a long time, Tadashi just breathing against Kei’s chest, his eyes fluttering closed for a few minutes before they inevitably come open again. Kei stays awake and strokes his fingers through Tadashi’s hair, shifting their positions occasionally when Tadashi starts fidgeting, keeping his breathing calm so Tadashi has a pattern to follow.

 

Kei starts to doze off around 4:30 in the morning. “Tadashi,” he says, because he’s sure it’s rude to just fall asleep on someone who’s just had a panic attack and is now being kept awake by incessant insomnia. “I’m…” Kei trails off into a yawn, “I might fall asleep.”

 

“That’s okay, Tsukki,” Tadashi says. “Just having you here is enough.”

 

“Wake me up if you need anything.”

 

“Sure, Tsukki.”

 

“I mean it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

It’s quiet for a while, and Kei dozes in and out of sleep in a strange half-daze that has him tugging Tadashi in closer and occasionally rousing to run a hand through Tadashi’s hair. The next time he looks at the clock, it’s 6:45 a.m., and Tadashi is sleeping hard against Kei’s chest. Kei’s neck is stiff against the headboard, his back kind of killing him, but he doesn’t mind that any more than he minds the gritty burn of sleep-deprived eyes or the yawns he’s sure will endure all day, even at school.

 

School. Fuck.

 

Kei has been contemplating waking Tadashi for about five minutes when he hears the knock at the door, just a light tap that doesn’t wake Tadashi.

 

“Tadashi-kun? Honey? Are you awake?” It’s Tadashi’s mom, and Kei freezes because he’s not sure whether she’s going to come in, but then she keeps talking without opening the door so he figures they’re in the clear. “Tadashi-kun, I thought I heard crying last night, but I didn’t check because…well, I just didn’t want to intrude. But…”

 

The door creaks open.

 

Yamaguchi-san pokes her head in, her beautiful face wearing an expression of concern and care that has Kei feeling relieved just out of the sheer knowledge that someone besides him really is looking out for Tadashi. Yamaguchi-san’s eyebrows jump in surprise when she sees Kei in Tadashi’s bed, her son nestled into his best friend’s chest as he sleeps, tear tracks still evident on his freckled cheeks.

 

“Kei-kun,” she says, her voice soft, obviously trying not to wake Tadashi. The honorific-endearment surprises Kei; it’s been a while since anyone called him that, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. Yamaguchi-san called him that all the time when he was younger, after all.

 

“Yamaguchi-san,” Kei whispers back, his voice barely audible.

 

Yamaguchi-san tries to smile. “Kei-kun,” she whispers, looking like she might cry. “Kei-kun, thank you. For taking care of him.”

 

Kei just kind of stares, uncertain of what to say. Finally, he settles on a little nod, because it won’t jostle Tadashi. Yamaguchi-san shakes her head.

 

“I was going to make breakfast. You’re welcome to stay. Are you going to school today?”

 

Something about the fact that Yamaguchi-san asks makes Kei feel older and more mature than anything ever has. She’s giving them the option, the power to decide for themselves whether they should go do what is expected of them or whether they should stay at home, take a day to themselves, clear their heads, get more sleep. It’s honestly a little surprising, Kei thinks, because high school is so absurdly important in Japan. And yet.

 

Yamaguchi-san is looking at him with patience and compassion in her eyes. “Take your time. You can decide when Tadashi wakes up. Or, if he doesn’t, then I guess that makes the decision easy.”

 

Responsibility settles heavy on Kei’s shoulders. He nods and offers his most grateful expression, and Yamaguchi-san seems to understand the sincerity in his eyes because she nods and leaves the room, shutting the door carefully behind her. Kei is left in silence.

 

It’s only when he looks back down that he realizes his fingers are still threaded through Tadashi’s hair, his palm cradling Tadashi’s head carefully against his chest. Yamaguchi-san must have seen.

 

Kei doesn’t know why, but this feels strangely significant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They gather outside the school the morning the entrance exam results are set to be posted, Kei and Tadashi waiting near the front of the crowd and trying not to look nervous even though they absolutely are. Tadashi is rambling on about something that Kei isn’t really hearing, both of them coping with the nerves the only way they know how. By 9:50, there’s a big crowd of students outside Karasuno pushing towards the spot where the results will be posted at 10:00, and Kei takes a steadying breath and wonders why he kind of feels like he should take Tadashi’s hand.

 

At exactly 10:00 a.m., the board with the results is brought out. There’s a terrifying moment where Kei’s stomach drops, the whole crowd silent in anticipation, and then the school officials step back and the results are there in front of them, and Kei searches for his name and finds it, and—

 

It’s honestly almost too good to be true, the way things ends up.

 

“Tsukki! Tsukki!” Tadashi is shouting next to him, “I got in! They—they—I thought for sure, because of the flu—”

 

“Yamaguchi, slow down,” Kei says, because he’s still stunned from seeing his own name on the list. The whirl of resounding emotion around the school is a little overwhelming, honestly.

 

“I—Tsukki, I got in to Tohoku.”

 

Kei looks up, struck with a sudden jolt of sheer joy, greater even than the joy he felt at seeing his own name on the acceptance list. He hides the emotion behind a raised eyebrow. “Of course you did. I told you that you would.”

 

“I—I just never thought—like, the exam, and the flu, and it’s so hard to get in, and like—oh my god, we can go to college together now, I mean—” Tadashi cuts off, wiping away a couple of tears and sucking in a breath with a little sniffle. He stares at Kei, suddenly frozen.

 

“What?”

 

“You did get in, didn’t you?”

 

And Kei—well, Kei realizes all of a sudden that actually, he _is_ kind of relieved, because: “Yes, I did.”

 

He figures he should keep his excitement to a minimum.

 

Tadashi lights up even more, if that’s even possible. “Tsukki, Tsukki! We’re going to Tohoku, we’re—we got in, it’s like—the _best_ school except for Tokyo, like—Tsukki!”

 

“Oikawa goes there,” Kageyama says, appearing beside them.

 

“Really?” Tadashi asks, taken aback. “Well, I guess it makes sense. He is really smart and all. And good at volleyball.”

 

“Where are you going, Kageyama,” Kei asks, because he’s half-convinced Kageyama won’t have gotten in anywhere.

 

But Kageyama blushes and looks away. “I—I got offered a spot at Sendai. For volleyball. And, like, because they specialize in physical education. So it makes sense.”

 

There’s a blur of blue and orange as Hinata comes flying up on his bike. “Guys! Guys!” Hinata is yelling. He’s practically out of control on his bike (which, _why_ , they’re literally still _on school grounds_ ) and he almost plows into Kageyama, who starts yelling at him as soon as he’s checked that Hinata is okay.

 

“Wait, Kageyama, shut up!” Hinata says. “Guys, I got in to Tokai. I didn’t really think I could, but—I did! It’s where Kuroo goes, and I thought I could go there because Kenma goes to Tokyo University but I obviously can’t get in _there_ , so I thought I would go with Kuroo instead, and like—guys! _Guys!_ ”

 

Tadashi squeals. _Squeals._ “Hinata! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!”

 

“You’re moving to Tokyo?” Kei asks, genuinely a little surprised. Out of everyone on the volleyball team, he wouldn’t have expected Hinata to be the one to go away to college.

 

Hinata grins, but there’s a flicker of something uncertain in his eyes. “Yeah. I mean, I’m nervous, of course, but—I’m just. I’m really excited. I can’t wait to see Kenma and Kuroo and Bokuto and Akaashi and everyone else we know! They’re all down there, so it’ll just be _awesome._ ”

 

“Kageyama, congratulate him,” Tadashi says, quiet enough that Kei knows Hinata didn’t hear. Kageyama is standing off to the side, an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Congratulations, Hinata,” he says, forcing a smile. It looks really creepy. Creepier than usual.

 

“Stop doing that with your face. How many times do we have to tell you?” Kei says, deadpan.

 

Hinata looks over at Kageyama and his smile falls just a little.

 

“Thanks, Kageyama,” Hinata says. They stare at each other for a second, and Tadashi grabs Kei’s sleeve and tugs him along so they’re walking ahead of the other two, who eventually fall into step behind them and take turns pushing Hinata’s bike down the hill, all of them heading home to tell their families the good news. Kei and Tadashi keep up a little excited conversation, but Hinata and Kageyama don’t speak.

 

It’s kind of sad to watch them, actually. Kei had really thought, deep down, that they would find each other eventually.

 

But maybe he’s been wrong all along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“There aren’t any fireflies, and it’s cold,” Tadashi says.

 

“I know. You say that every year. Come outside anyways.”

 

Tadashi pouts. “Fine. But just because you asked nicely.”

 

“It’s because it’s tradition, and you like traditions.”

 

Tadashi gives a little hum. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

They go outside and sit on the porch like always, the sky clear as can be, and all the stars shining bright.

 

“They’re really beautiful, aren’t they?” Tadashi asks.

 

Kei glances over. Takes in the sight of Tadashi’s head tipped back, his freckles lit up by the light filtering out from the kitchen window behind them. Kei looks up at the stars. Tadashi is right. “Yeah,” he says. “They are.”

 

“Are you worried about not living in the dorms?”

 

Kei shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to live with a bunch of other people being loud and annoying and generally a pain in the ass.”

 

“But living at home will be so boring,” Tadashi whines.

 

“So let’s get a place together,” Kei says, not really thinking about it.

 

Tadashi doesn’t respond.

 

“What?” Kei asks after a minute, turning to look at Tadashi.

 

Tadashi is staring at him with wide eyes, his freckles even brighter now that his head is turned to catch the light from the kitchen. “I—would you really want to?”

 

“Yes. I have some savings, so if we pooled our money we could probably afford the key money,” Kei says. Tadashi keeps looking at him like he’s said something really, really crazy. “What, Yamaguchi?”

 

“I just—okay. Yeah, I have savings too. I mean, it’s super expensive to move, obviously, but—but if we both got jobs, we could afford it. There are a lot of cheap places around here.”

 

“I was already planning to get a job at the college if I could,” Kei says.

 

Tadashi’s face finally breaks into a smile. “I’m sure our parents wouldn’t mind. My mom and dad like you, and they’re always talking about how grown up I am, how they hardly even see me anymore as it is.”

 

Kei bites his lip, thinking of the day a couple months back when Tadashi’s mom had found them curled around each other in Tadashi’s bed after Tadashi’s midnight panic attack, and goes suddenly apprehensive, because Yamaguchi-san knows something is wrong. There’s no way she doesn’t. Why would she let her only son move out if she’s clearly worried about him?

 

“What?” Tadashi asks.

 

Kei steels himself. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Anything.”

 

“I…your mom knows something.”

 

Tadashi pales, his mouth opening and closing a couple times before he tips forward to rest his head in his hands. “What?”

 

“I didn’t tell her, Yamaguchi. Relax. She just saw us in your bed that night after you had the panic attack. But you woke up right afterwards and insisted that we go to school. So we went, and I just didn’t ever mention that she saw us.”

 

“She—why did she even come in?”

 

Kei swallows. “She heard you crying.”

 

“And she waited until morning to come find out what was wrong?”

 

Kei shrugs. “She said she didn’t want to disturb you.”

 

Tadashi worries his lip between his teeth, making the skin go extra red and rosy. “Oh.”

 

“I’m just telling you because maybe your mom won’t want you to move out if she’s worried. You might have to talk to her. Tell her something.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Okay. I can—I can lie, I can make something up.”

 

Kei takes a breath. “You should tell her the truth.”

 

Tadashi freezes. “Are you going to tell your mom?”

 

And that—well. Okay. Tadashi’s got him there. “No,” he says.

 

“Then I’m not telling mine. Tsukki, I’m _fine,_ I’ll just—I’ll tell her I was upset, and it’s fine, and—”

 

“Tadashi, what do you think she would do if you told her?”

 

“I—I don’t know, like, make me go to the doctor’s, probably? And that’s—I don’t want to, I don’t—Tsukki, this isn’t America; people don’t just go to therapists here—”

 

“Right, so she probably won’t do anything.”

 

Tadashi doesn’t say anything.

 

“Is that what you’re really afraid of?” Kei asks. “That she won’t actually do anything to help you? That’s it, isn’t it? I’m right.”

 

Tadashi hesitates for a second, looks towards Kei’s house as if to check that they’re still undisturbed, and he’s apparently satisfied, because he nods. “Maybe. Yeah. A little bit.”

 

Kei narrows his eyes and looks hard at Tadashi: Tadashi who is chewing his lip too hard, whose fingers are scratching a little at his left wrist like they’re looking for something that isn’t there. Tadashi doesn’t ever touch his wrists when he self-harms, but Kei knows he wants to.

 

“Here,” Kei says, reaching out to grab the hand that’s scratching at the opposite wrist. He cradles Tadashi’s hand in both of his and rotate Tadashi’s wrist so that his palm is face up, Kei’s long fingers cradling Tadashi’s. He brushes his thumb up along the lines on Tadashi’s palm, tracing the curves and indentations, his touch gentle. “You don’t have to tell her if you don’t want. But you might have to tell her something, or she might not let you out of her sight.”

 

Tadashi stares at where Kei is running his thumb back and forth along Tadashi’s life line.

 

“She would have to let me out of her sight,” he says, “But she would be letting me stay constantly under yours. So it would be fine.”

 

Kei feels some emotion rush through him, there and gone too fast for him to identify. “Tell her that,” he says, because he knows it will work. He’s not sure how, but it’s something he can feel in his chest. “Tell her that. Ask her tomorrow. And I’ll ask my parents.”

 

“Okay, Tsukki,” Tadashi says.

 

It works.

 

They move in together two months after they start college.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As it turns out, college is kind of hard. So is living together.

 

The first few months go off without a hitch, actually. Their tiny apartment is exciting, and they each have their own room, which turns out to be good because they end up with very different sleep schedules once Kei starts work in the library part-time and Tadashi ends up on late-night shifts in the campus coffee shop. It’s weird, having so much free time and the authority the decide how they spend it, and Kei finds that he actually sees Tadashi _less_ during their first year even though they’re within a three-meter radius of each other a lot of the time just because their apartment is so small.

 

They still talk to each other more honestly than they had during a good portion of high school, and there’s more than one night that Tadashi’s gentle laugh, his light but meaningful words of comfort, help Kei to eat something more than just a hard-boiled egg or a single onigiri or, sometimes, _nothing_. There’s more than one night that Tadashi comes crying to Kei’s bedroom and falls asleep on Kei’s futon while Kei finishes his homework.

 

“I don’t mind, Tsukki. Just do your homework, and let me sleep here. You can kick me out when you’re done,” Tadashi always says when this happens. Kei never, ever does.

 

They’re a third of the way through their second year of college when things start to go awry.

 

It starts because now that they’ve both decided what they’re going to study, they end up in specialized classes instead of general education requirements, which means they both have larger quantities of more difficult homework, and they’re stressed out because the future is looming nearer and nearer. Tadashi starts slacking off on his chores, which annoys Kei because Kei wants a fucking clean kitchen, thank you very much, but he’s too busy trying to study for his history final while he _knows_ Tadashi’s writing classes don’t even have tests, only essays and stories which he can do _whenever_ and so he should have the fucking time to _clean the kitchen._

 

When Kei says something about this, Tadashi yells at him about the fact that he’s always playing music late at night and _could you please fucking wear headphones, because I know you own, like, multiple different pairs for all your different “sound signatures” or whatever the fuck that bullshit is._

 

They fight through the end of the year, and then Tadashi figures out what’s wrong.

 

“We need more friends.”

 

Kei stares. “What.”

 

It’s late at night, and they’ve just been arguing about who gets to use the laundry machine on which days, and they’ve been going around in these repetitive circles for an hour before Tadashi throws out this incredibly off-topic statement which Kei definitely doesn’t agree with.

 

“We need to spend time with people who aren’t us,” Tadashi says, and Kei scoffs.

 

“We hardly even spend time with each other as it is.”

 

“Yeah, well, we spend more time in the same apartment than we do with other people, and I _know_ there are people in Sendai that we can be hanging out with. I mean, Hinata isn’t here anymore, obviously, but we haven’t see Kageyama in, like, a year now.”

 

“He’s always busy at Sendai. And what do we even have to talk about with him?”

 

Tadashi furrows his brow. “Okay, you know what, fine. You can just hole yourself up here like we’ve been doing for more than a year now, and I’ll go out and have fun with Tanaka and Noya-sempai and Suga and Daichi-san and Asahi-san and their friends, because I’m sure they have a lot of them, and I’m sure they’re fun.”

 

“What?” Kei asks. “You still talk to them?”

 

Tadashi colors. “Well—I mean, not a lot, or anything, but—I’ve talked to Noya-sempai recently. He and Tanaka are both at Sendai, in case you’d forgotten. And Suga and Daichi-san are graduating from Miyagi University this year, but they’re still around for now at least. Asahi-san got a writing contract. He didn’t even _go_ to college, and he’s going to be a famous author.”

 

“What’s your point?”

 

“Look, Nishinoya invited me to go bowling with them this weekend. I know it sounds dumb, but I really want to go.”

 

“Did you think I would stop you? I know you hang out with people from your classes sometimes. Why are you being weird about this?”

 

“I wanted you to come with me. Noya said I could bring you, if you wanted to come. He said they wanted to invite us for drinks, but we’re not 20 yet, so they said we could all just go bowling instead.”

 

“I hate bowling.”

 

Tadashi looks kind of angry. “Yeah, okay. Got it. I will go have friends without you. Because my other option is staying here and committing homicide.”

 

Kei rolls his eyes. “You’re being overdramatic.”

 

Tadashi flips him off and goes back into his room. That weekend he goes bowling, and Kei reluctantly goes with him and accidentally has a not-terrible time.

 

As it turns out, Tadashi is right. Having more friends turns out to be a good thing for both of them. They stop fighting. Tadashi spends more time in a good mood, and he has fewer panic attacks, and he goes long periods of time—months, even—without taking any sharp or hot objects to his skin. Kei doesn’t always join in whatever group hangouts the ex-Karasuno crew has, but he goes along sometimes, and it helps. It really does.

 

And at the end of the day, Kei is the one Tadashi always comes home to, so it’s not like Kei has lost anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s the thing: Kei _knows_ he needs to eat.

 

It’s just. He’s really busy. And his stomach has been hurting, so he’s probably caught some 24-hour bug or whatever. And he hasn’t gone grocery shopping in a while. And he was focused on his homework so he just forgot.

 

Also, he currently has a C in his philosophy course.

 

“Tsukki, I’m getting a snack. Do you want apples or strawberries?”

 

If it’s hard for Kei to lie to himself about the reason he hasn’t eaten more than half a salad in the past three days, it’s even harder to lie to Tadashi. He’s honestly amazed he made it any of those three days without being caught out.

 

But now, Tadashi knows. Tadashi lives with him. _Of course_ Tadashi was going to notice. Probably the only reason he hadn’t noticed sooner was that he’d been on a crazy work schedule at the café and hadn’t been home enough to keep track of Kei’s eating habits as diligently as he normally pretends not to. But Kei knows. It’s not like Tadashi is writing it down or anything—probably—but he does pay attention.

 

“I’m fine. I really don’t feel good, Tadashi.”

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says, his voice filled with the concern that Kei has come to expect when they have these conversations. “How long have you felt not-good?”

 

Kei shrugs. “I don’t know. A couple days. Probably just something I picked up at school.”

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tadashi says, and it sounds more like he’s going to start edging the conversation in towards what they both know is going on here, and Kei can’t help it.

 

“Drop it. This is embarrassing,” he snaps. Tadashi looks up from where he’s been kind of half-heartedly digging through the fridge.

 

“Embarrassing? Do you mean for me, or for you?”

 

Kei stays stony and silent, staring at his latest philosophy reading. He has to get a good score on his final essay or else he’ll get a B in the class, and it’ll kill his perfect GPA, and this is not how his second year of college is supposed to go.

 

Tadashi sits down next to Kei at the table, pulling his chair as close as he can get it without letting any parts of their bodies touch. Tadashi knows that Kei gets weird with physical contact when he’s like this.

 

Like this. Right. Because deep down he knows this is a mental thing, an _eating disorder_ thing, and it’s scary as hell.

 

“This is like when you find me trying to put away the iron all nonchalantly and make me go in the bathroom and show you the burns so you can treat them and keep an eye on me,” Tadashi says. “You think that’s not embarrassing for me?”

 

“Why would you be embarrassed?” Kei asks, genuinely confused. “I’m just helping you be okay. There’s nothing embarrassing about that.”

 

Tadashi is looking at him all purposeful and intent. “Yeah. Same.”

 

Kei stares back. Tadashi sighs, looking a little bit out of his depth. Kei knows he’s done research on how to support people with eating disorders, and while some of the techniques Tadashi has tried have actually helped a lot, others have left Kei angry and prone to lashing out. Tadashi is still trying to learn what helps and what doesn’t, but—well, he’s trying. He’s so earnest about it that Kei can’t help but want to listen.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says, carefully, after a long pause in which they each look at everything in the room except each other. “I was going to make nabe for dinner. Is that okay?”

 

Kei thinks about it. Thinks about sipping at the gingery broth, maybe nibbling on a few pieces of salmon or chicken meatballs or mochi or whatever else Tadashi is planning to put in it. He doesn’t really want to, but of every type of food that could be offered to him, nabe is probably the least terrible option. “I don’t feel good,” Kei says, the words hesitant.

 

Tadashi looks for a second like he’s going to argue. Like he’s going to bargain, even, or at least like he really wants to. Even though Kei knows Tadashi knows that bargaining is just about the least effective way of playing this conversation.

 

Tadashi nods. “Okay, well, I’ll make it and if you want some, it’ll be there.”

 

That’s…okay, Kei has to hand it to Tadashi: Tadashi is good at being delicate. Maybe it’s because he looks so delicate: freckles dusted light and pretty across gentle cheekbones, eyes all wide and framed with thick black lashes, mouth a rosy pink.

 

“Okay,” Kei says, not really accepting the offer but not refusing it either. Tadashi nods and stands back up to head for the fridge.

 

“It’s a little early for dinner. I’m going to cut up an apple,” Tadashi says, like the narration is going to change Kei’s mind about snacking.

 

“I don’t want to eat until I get my philosophy grade up,” Kei blurts, because Tadashi is suddenly far enough from him physically to make him a little bit less anxious about everything.

 

“Which will be when?” Tadashi asks, grabbing the cutting board and starting in on the apple.

 

“The only grades are the midterm essay and the final essay. And the participation grade, but that’s only 20 percent.”

 

Kei can see Tadashi thinking, knows he’s calculating how long it will be before Kei hands in his final essay at the end of the semester. “So a month and a half.”

 

Kei shakes his head. “I got a C on my midterm essay even though I spent weeks on it.”

 

Tadashi nods. “That’s the one that you were working on for, like, 12 hours straight that one day, and going through it with Akiteru and stuff, right?”

 

Kei nods, clenching his fists as he tries not to start crying. He’s not even really sure where the emotions are coming from anymore, but he can’t break down in front of Tadashi. Tadashi needs him to be stable, to be solid for when Tadashi is “out in space”, as he sometimes calls it, because he feels like he’s not even really present on the planet. Even if Tadashi isn’t out in space right now. Tadashi has been fine for a while now. Maybe since his last panic attack, which had been at least three months ago.

 

Tadashi walks back to the table with the apple on a plate and drags his chair around so he can sit across from Kei this time. He’s obviously noticed that physical closeness is not what Kei needs right now. Kei looks up and meets Tadashi’s eyes, and he realizes that Tadashi really _doesn’t_ know what to say, that he’s making it up as he goes along. That for all the research Tadashi has done, sometimes with Kei there to help sort through good advice and bad, Tadashi isn’t a therapist. He’s just a friend who can offer some support.

 

“Kei,” he says, “I need to learn more things about what you’re feeling, but not just from you—I can do more research, and I can encourage you to, like, talk to someone who knows what they’re doing. I know we always talk about being honest with each other, and you can always be honest with me. But I also know that sometimes that’s not really what you need. So I’m trying. I’ll try harder. I’m sorry.”

 

What’s weird is that everything Tadashi has just said actually _is_ helping, the earnest fervor with which he cares about Kei a shockingly good motivator for Kei to stare at Tadashi’s wide brown eyes, sigh a little, and nod.

 

“Okay. Nabe tonight. And then tomorrow I’ll have some natto for breakfast.” It helps, planning his meals out this way, even if he doesn’t usually write them down.

 

Tadashi nods and pops a bite of apple into his mouth, which Kei knows he’s mostly doing because of that website that said they shouldn’t let food become taboo when Kei doesn’t want to eat. It actually kind of helps, the illusion that Tadashi is just doing an everyday activity without thinking about it. “So, how are you going to get your philosophy grade back up to an A?” Tadashi asks.

 

Kei sighs in relief. Tadashi has always recognized the fact that for as mopey as he can be, Kei likes solutions more than he likes wallowing. He always feels better with a push in the right direction rather than a hug and a listening ear; Tadashi is his opposite in this way, because he hates it when people give advice or suggestions but he will vent about something for hours, suddenly feel completely better, and start singing in the bathtub.

 

“I don’t know. I have a meeting with the professor on Tuesday to talk to him about what I can do. Not extra credit. I just need to get better at philosophical analysis and writing, I guess.”

 

Tadashi nods and then stands up. “I have some reading to do. Do you need more room at the table for your stuff, or can I sit here?”

 

And wow—that’s got to be one of the cleverest ways Tadashi has ever asked Kei if he needs some space, and Kei feels all the safer for being given this cover even if they both know it’s there.

 

“No,” Kei says, “It’s fine. You can sit here.”

 

Tadashi nods and walks off, leaving the plate of apple slices on his side of the table. Kei picks one up, studies it, and sets it carefully in his mouth. It’s easier to eat when Tadashi just sets a plate in front of him and then ignores him, so he can eat at his own pace without being watched. That’s the other reason Tadashi had asked about doing his reading with Kei at the table—“Can I be near you while you eat, or do you need me not to look?”

 

Kei sighs relief and eats another slice of apple.

 

Tadashi returns and opens his book and his notes, his pen moving quickly between his notebook and the book itself, because Tadashi is a heathen (read: literature major) who has no qualms about scribbling all over the actual text of a book. He steals an apple slice without looking up, and Kei smacks Tadashi’s hand away with a smirk and takes his own slice without even thinking about it, crunching through piece after piece as Tadashi snacks on it with him, because it helps him eat when Tadashi eats from the same plate and therefore, logically, takes up half the food. Kei is sure Tadashi has some magical way of making it so it only _looks_ like he’s eating half of it when really he’s only eating, like, a fifth at _best_ , but if this magic does exist, Kei still can’t prove it.

 

He eats the apple and then the nabe that Tadashi makes later, and he eats natto the next morning for breakfast and the world doesn’t end. Kei doesn’t hate himself any more or any less than he had before. He is not sure how to feel about this.

 

He ends up with a B in the philosophy class.

 

He tells himself he’s not going to eat for at least a week as he walks out, final essay clutched in his hand with a C on it, but when he gets home, Tadashi is making takoyaki and trying to learn some K-Pop choreography from a YouTube video, and if he persuades Kei to help make sure that takoyaki is still edible even though it’s a little burned, well, Kei ends up letting him.

 

Because here’s the thing: Kei _knows_ he needs to eat.

 

He just needs help sometimes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re at the end of their third year of college before anything changes. 

 

They’re 21 now, and they’re more stable than they’ve ever been before. They both still slip up, but they keep each other as happy as they can. They have a bigger group of friends, and they have their ragtag team of Karasuno graduates over for dinner and drinks every other Friday, and everything feels easy and fun even if it’s a little boring sometimes.

 

Then Hinata invites them to Tokyo. Of course Tadashi insists that they go.

 

It’s been a long time since Tadashi has been this drunk. Kei would know; they live together, after all, and even though they have Nishinoya and Tanaka in their group of friends, no one they hang out with regularly is really into having more than a couple beers, let alone getting trashed enough to go _clubbing._ But it turns out that Hinata’s college friends all have way more energy than is natural, and they love drinking and partying and dancing, and, perhaps worst of all, they’re all people Kei already knows from high school volleyball.

 

This is how Kei finds himself standing at the back of a club next to Kuroo, who is surprisingly Kenma-less for the night. This, Kuroo explains, is because Kenma hates loud noises and crowds and everything Kei also hates, except that for Kenma it’s more a trigger for sensory integration-related anxiety than just a mild annoyance, and therefore Kenma is actively encouraged to stay at home where he is probably hunting an Elder Dragon on his Nintendo Switch and waiting for all of them to stumble back to the apartment so he can curl up with Kuroo and ignore Hinata and Kei and Tadashi.

 

Kei looks around and wonders if he should go looking for Tadashi and Hinata and Bokuto, because the three of them had disappeared a while ago to buy themselves a round of shots, which was probably not a great idea because Tadashi and Hinata and Bokuto had already been three sheets to the wind before the group had even left Hinata and Kuroo and Kenma’s apartment. Kei thinks about asking Akaashi to join a search party, but Akaashi is standing off to the side studying his phone like he’s reading an article about responsible fiscal policy and the functionality of deficit spending. He probably is. Akaashi is as unenthusiastic about the club thing as Kei is, but Akaashi is unreasonably terrible company according to Kuroo—the sentiment expressed fondly, of course.

 

“I can’t leave you alone with him, Kei-kun,” Kuroo had said when they’d arrived and it had become clear who would be dancing and who would not.

 

“You don’t have to babysit me. And don’t call me that,” Kei had said.

 

Kuroo had laughed, and had taken the spot next to Kei without complaining even though he had then started spouting out a diatribe about why he loves dancing and clubs.

 

“The only thing that clubs don’t have that I really want is Kenma, though,” Kuroo is saying. “You know, I think maybe if we went to one of those clubs with the headphones where everyone just listens to their own thing but dances together, Kenma could enjoy it.” Kuroo has to yell over the pounding music, and Kei thinks about pretending he didn’t hear just so that he doesn’t have to engage. But Kuroo is actually pretty all right, as far as Kei’s acquaintances go, so Kei leans in and sips at his drink to keep himself just drunk enough to endure the ear-splitting music.

 

“Why would that be better? There’s still a bunch of people,” Kei points out.

 

Kuroo shrugs. “Kenma likes music and dancing. He dances with me all the time at home. And sometimes Hinata, too. I just think he would want to have some control over the situation. It might help.”

 

Kei raises an eyebrow. “You guys have dance parties alone in your apartment? Cute.”

 

Kuroo laughs, and Kei can tell that Kuroo is reasonably buzzed by the way his ever-wicked grin has gone downright feral. “Yes, we fucking do. We are fucking awesome.”

 

Kei stares with all the power of a blank stare he can muster with the world spinning a little bit around him. “You act like you’re all dating each other.”

 

Kuroo grins. “Nah, we would all three be really bad at that.”

 

“What?”

 

Kuroo sips his drink, shrugs. “Well, for one thing, having two boyfriends would be really overwhelming for Kenma. It’s enough of a challenge for him having _one._ And Hinata and I both just want Kenma to be happy, because he’s so fuckin’ awesome, and we fucking love him. And then there’s the part where poly relationships need a _lot_ of communication, and I just don’t think any of us could do that well enough for it to work. Especially with, like, consent and negotiation of boundaries and stuff.”

 

“You say ‘fuck’ a lot,” Kei says. Kuroo’s smirk widens, and Kei looks down, feeling suddenly childish. “Why are you telling me all this?” Kei asks, raising his eyebrows just barely.

 

Kuroo shrugs. “You asked.”

 

“I did not.”

 

“Kind of,” Kuroo says, leaning in with a leer. Kei turns away.

 

They stand in silence for another minute or so before Kei pushes himself out of his slouch against the wall and turns to Kuroo. “Another drink?”

 

Kuroo looks at his near-empty glass and nods, finishing off the rest of his drink and following Kei towards the bar. They only have to wait a few minutes before they’re grabbing their highballs and turning to scan the room, and Kei is about to head back to their corner when he sees a flash of orange hair through the mass of bodies moving on the dance floor. Hinata, obviously. And there’s Bokuto as well, his hair slick and falling into his face in a look so different from the spiky absurdity that was his hair in high school.

 

Tadashi. There’s Tadashi, forming a little triangle with the other two, dancing with a smile of his face, his mouth moving along with the lyrics to whatever song is playing. Kei vaguely recognizes it as something Tadashi has played at their apartment before, the melody drifting out from under the door to Tadashi’s room late at night, and something fond and longing wells up in Kei’s chest. He pushes it down and sips his drink.

 

“Hey, you wanna,” Kuroo is yelling in his ear, tugging a little at Kei’s shoulder to direct him back towards their corner, but Kei shrugs him off and moves to a table littered with glasses but otherwise unoccupied, a spot where he can keep Hinata and Bokuto and Tadashi in his line of sight. Kuroo flashes a grin as he leans against the tall table beside Kei, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

Bokuto looks ridiculous when he dances, which really doesn’t surprise Kei at all, even if the tall ex-ace looks good now that he’s grown up a couple of years, his long limbs matched by broad shoulders, his hair considerably better now that it’s not spiked up all the time. Hinata looks good too; he’s still shorter than the rest of them, but he’s grown a little bit, and the mess of his hair looks more intentional than it used to, even if right now the sweat from dancing and the humidity of the club is making him look kind of like he’s just been well-fucked, which really might work for _getting_ him well-fucked later, Kei thinks. There’s actually a guy who’s been eyeing Hinata up all night, and the guy doesn’t even look like a dickbag. He’s clean-cut and cute, tallish but not intimidatingly so. Maybe Hinata will get lucky tonight.

 

And then there is Tadashi.

 

Tadashi’s hair is longer now than Kei has even seen it, and he’s wearing it half-up in a little bun, some of the strands escaping to cling to his cheeks, his throat. His limbs look long and graceful, and where Tadashi normally comes off as small and unthreatening even though he’s really not that much shorter than Kei, he currently looks devastating and powerful with the energy he’s exuding, the unselfconscious bliss with which he’s dancing. He’s drawing eyes left and right, from people of any and all genders, and Kei can’t decide whether the feeling in his chest is pride at his best friend’s looking so goddamn good or it’s frustration at all the people staring at him. Maybe it’s something else entirely.

 

“They look good,” Kuroo says, and Kei can’t help the single nod he offers in return. Tadashi and Hinata are looking at each other now, singing the lyrics overdramatically, while Bokuto tries to get in between them and ends up draped around Tadashi’s shoulders, all of them tipping their heads back to sing to the ceiling during the chorus. Their eyes are closed, their mouths smiling while they sing, and Kei wonders all of a sudden what it would be like to be one of those people, the kind who can just _do that_ without feeling embarrassed or self-conscious.

 

“It looks fun, doesn’t it?” Kuroo says, as if reading his mind. “I know you’re not that into it, but it was cool of you to come with us anyways.”

 

“You’re not even dancing.”

 

Kuroo shrugs. “Yeah, but I can come dancing whenever. Hinata and I go out all the time. You’re only in Tokyo for the weekend, so I can hang with you while you stand in the corner and pine away.”

 

Kei’s brow furrows. “You go out with Hinata?” He asks, ignoring the second part of what Kuroo has said because he doesn’t know what Kuroo means.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Kuroo says. “We both enjoy it, and Kenma loves having the apartment all to himself.” Kuroo goes quiet for a minute and Kei sips at his drink, unperturbed by the silence. But then, Kuroo presses: “You don’t have to talk about it or even acknowledge it if you really don’t want to, but…I’m right, aren’t I? About the pining?”

 

Kei sips his highball and frowns. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Kuroo’s eyebrows jump, an expression of genuine surprise playing across his face. “Wow, okay. I did not realize—but okay then. So you and Yamaguchi-kun aren’t dating then?”

 

“What? No, of course not,” Kei says. “Ta—Yamaguchi and I are best friends.”

 

There must be something in his tone, though, because Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “You do realize I’m dating my childhood best friend, who is also a guy, and we live together with his ex-boyfriend, who is our other best friend? I’m not exactly going to judge you for lusting away after Yamaguchi-kun, dude.”

 

“Shut up,” Kei says before he can help himself. “I’m not _lusting away._ He’s not some guy I want to fuck.” Kei forcibly closes his mouth.

 

“No, he’s not,” Kuroo says. “He’s your best friend, and he’s into you, and you’re clearly into him. So you should probably let him know before someone else whisks him away.”

 

“You mean like how you didn’t tell Kenma before he got whisked away?”

 

Kuroo smiles. “Hinata didn’t whisk Kenma away. They were cute together, actually. And Kenma was happy, so I was happy. Besides, I was going through a sleeping-around phase back then, and I wasn’t really aware of my feelings for Kenma, I guess. He and Hinata broke up pretty peacefully, and it was another few months before I realized the casual hookup life wasn’t for me and that I wanted to be with Kenma. I just got lucky that he wanted to be with me, too. Hinata helped, actually. Kenma was afraid to commit because he didn’t want to ruin our friendship if we ever broke up, but…” Kuroo gets a sappy look on his face, and Kei has the urge to pretend to choke. “Nah. Kenma and I are endgame. Even if we had our fair share of side quests along the way. But you know that.”

 

“Just because we kissed _one time_ at training camp,” Kei grumbles, glaring at Kuroo for a second before he turns to stare at Tadashi. “I was 15 and I didn’t know any better.”

 

“It was two times!” Kuroo says, acting all affronted.

 

Kei rolls his eyes and doesn’t look away from the dancefloor. The cute guy from earlier is now in their little group, fixated on Hinata, and Hinata is soaking up the attention, clearly into this guy as well.

 

“How do you do it?” Kei asks, quietly enough that Kuroo has to ask him to repeat the question. Kei almost doesn’t, but his curiosity wins out, and so he asks again.

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “How do you do what? Tell someone you love them?”

 

Kei sighs and rolls his eyes. “No. Stop that. How do you enjoy dancing at a club?”

 

Kuroo looks over at the group of four, their three old friends and the apparent new addition. Hinata already looks pretty familiar with him, and Kei kind of wants to roll his eyes.

 

“It’s just fun, _Tsukki,_ ” Kuroo says, smirking. “But it’s not something you would like. There’s too much risk for too little payout.”

 

Kei furrows his brow and turns to face Kuroo fully. “Elaborate.”

 

Kuroo’s posture shifts until he’s bent over the table together, Kuroo’s mouth close to Kei’s ear so he doesn’t have to yell so loud. “You’re not the kind of person who likes risks. So when you’re faced with something risky, you evaluate the potential good against the potential bad, and, in general, because you can be really apathetic, you lean towards the do-nothing option just because even if it doesn’t lead to anything better than what you have, you believe it can’t possibly turn into something worse. But I’ll let you in on a little secret: it’s actually a risk in itself to believe that doing nothing means nothing will change.”

 

Kei leans in closer to make sure Kuroo can really hear him when he responds. “What does this have to do with enjoying dancing?”

 

Kuroo pulls back so he can look Kei in the eyes when he says, “You don’t really care about the dancing. But you care about relating to the person who’s _doing_ the dancing. In fact, you should probably be relating to him more _right now,_ because he’s currently being danced on by a very creepy-looking gentleman who doesn’t seem to know how to take no for an answer.”

 

Kei’s head whips up just in time to see Tadashi staring at Hinata with an almost-scared look in his eyes, his posture stiff as he tries to slide away from the overly friendly guy. Hinata’s love interest for the night is the one who walks over and says something to the creeper, who walks off before Kei can even think of stepping in himself.

 

“Fuck,” Kei says, feeling kind of frozen and like he missed something important. Kuroo is looking at him with a serious expression, no more teasing or mischief present in his dark eyes.

 

“Yamaguchi is patient, but he’s not going to wait for you forever,” Kuroo says. “I’m not saying you need to, like, jump his bones as soon as you get home, or something. Although I don’t think anyone would be opposed to that option. Well, except people who are asexual, or gray-ace, or demi, or—you know what, scratch my previous statement. There are many people who might be opposed to that option, so please do not do it.”

 

“You know a lot about non-traditional relationship things.”

 

Kuroo grins. “Yeah, well. Japan can be kind of blind to that sort of thing, but I do have the internet. And I know how consent works. And also I’ve had sex with a lot of people, and very few of them identified as straight, cisgender women. Although some of them did! But, I guess I’m just saying that you should do your research about all that stuff. Like, just to not be an asshole.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that by that definition, most people are assholes.”

 

“Yeah. And that’s what’s fucking wrong with this world, Tsukishima Kei. You should be _thrilled_ to have the opportunity to go out of your way so someone else can be comfortable and safe while experiencing something that makes them feel _amazing._ Or not, you know, if someone doesn’t want to have sex, or if they only want to have sex under very specific circumstances. Then they absolutely don’t have to. It’s, like, super obvious. It’s fucking stupid that people don’t get that.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Kei says, because even if Kei has never really sat down to think about it before, everything Kuroo has just said is, like Kuroo said, obvious. Kei almost wonders why he _hasn’t_ thought about it before, but then he realizes that, well, he doesn’t really think about sex that much. He certainly doesn’t look around and think about having sex with the people he sees on the street, or in his classes, or at the gym, or even really on TV.

 

“Anyways, you’ve also got all these people who don’t like gender, which is totally chill, because gender isn’t real anyways—and then you’ve got people whose romantic orientation is different from their sexual orientation; that’s common with people who are asexual but are romantically attracted to some others, or people who are aromantic but are sexually attracted to some others—Tsukishima, this conversation is probably something we should have once we get home! It’s really loud in here.”

 

Tsukishima’s head is spinning. Something is clicking into place.

 

“Okay, sure,” he says, instead of pushing at whatever words are on the tip of his tongue, whatever thing he’s feeling that seems so abstracted and yet so fitting.

 

“You wanna watch your boy dance some more?” Kuroo asks, “Or you wanna ask them all if they’re ready to go home?”

 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, letting whatever strange feeling had come over him slip away. “They’re having fun. Leave them be for a while longer.”

 

Kuroo nods. “Okay. You wanna get another drink?”

 

Tsukishima looks down and realized that somewhere along the way, he’s finished off his highball. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Kuroo leads him to the bar to order another round, but Tsukishima can hardly take his eyes off of Tadashi long enough to order.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After they leave the bar, they end up at McDonald’s just because it’s open 24 hours and has a place to sit. Bokuto and Akaashi sit at the two-person booth across the aisle from the other five of them, Kei and Tadashi on one side while Kuroo squishes in with Hinata and Hinata’s boytoy, who turns out to be someone Hinata knows from his job waiting tables. The guy’s name is Ogawa Takuya, and he’s funny and nice.

 

“He’s good for Hinata, I think,” Tadashi whispers into Kei’s ear, or at least tries to whisper, but he’s drunk so it comes out really loud. Kei is still fairly tipsy himself, and he picks at the fries Tadashi has dumped out all over their tray and snorts when Hinata looks at Tadashi and blushes before turning to Ogawa and whispering something in his ear. Ogawa laughs and whispers something back, making some sort of hand gesture that Hinata mimics before bursting into raucous laughter. It must be some sort of inside joke.

 

“Stop eating all the fries,” Kei says as Tadashi leans away to swing his legs up over Kei’s lap.

 

“Tsukki! I want a McFlurry,” he says. Kei rolls his eyes as his turns to eye Tadashi, whose head is pillowed against the back of the booth.

 

“Why’d you put your legs here, then? Now I can’t get out of the booth.”

 

Tadashi’s eyes light up. “Tsukki! You’re really going to get me one?”

 

Kei rolls his eyes. “Yeah, duh. Move your feet.”

 

He gets the McFlurry and comes back to see Akaashi and Bokuto standing and announcing their intention to leave.

 

“I’m tired and not drunk enough for this,” Akaashi says by way of explanation, and Bokuto grins.

 

“I’m tired and way _too_ drunk for this!” He says, swaying hard into Akaashi, who looks fond and amused and he waves a hand and guides Bokuto towards the door.

 

“Are they…” Kei asks as he slides back into the booth and hands Tadashi the Oreo McFlurry.

 

“No one actually knows,” Kuroo says. “Trust me, we’ve been trying to get it out of them for years. But they’re graduated now, like me, so we don’t see them as much. And Kenma is so busy with his senior thesis that we’ve all kind of given up.”

 

“I think they are,” Hinata says, decisive. “Takuya,” he says, and Kei is kind of surprised to hear Hinata calling Ogawa by his first name, because he hadn’t realized they were that close, “Will you get me some water?”

 

“Sure, baby,” Ogawa says, making Kei bristle a little. Kei has always hated that particular pet name, especially said with the syrupy-smooth condescension with which Ogawa says it. But Ogawa is cool, or at least not entirely detestable, so Kei ignores the feeling. “Anyone else want some?” Ogawa offers, and Tadashi perks up between bites of the McFlurry.

 

“Yes, please!”

 

Ogawa nods and heads off, and Hinata gazes longingly after him. It’s a little sickening. Kei turns to steal a bite of McFlurry from Tadashi, who puts his feet back up over Kei’s thighs but scoots himself forward enough to rest his forehead against Kei’s shoulder. Kei has seen Tadashi tipsy or even comfortably drunk enough times to judge the extent of his intoxication, and Tadashi is clearly _smashed,_ which is rare for him. It reminds Kei of the last time he’d seen Tadashi this drunk, when they’d been drinking underage at Tanaka’s house and Kei had taken Tadashi home to sleep it off, and Tadashi had looked so beautiful walking home drunk in the moonlight, all happy and shining brighter than the stars.

 

Okay, so Kei is maybe a _little_ bit more drunk than he thought.

 

Ogawa comes back with the water, and Kei makes sure Tadashi actually drinks it in between bites of ice cream.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says when he finishes the McFlurry, “Tsukki, _Kei,_ I want a cigarette.” Tadashi is tugging at Kei’s collar, his fingers working the fabric so it goes tight against Kei’s collarbone, and Kei feels the breath rush out of him.

 

“I don’t have any,” he says, kind of regretfully, because even though he really doesn’t want to indulge this habit, he always ends up doing it anyways. Tadashi always gets kind of spinny and content when he smokes, and Kei can’t help but like it.

 

“Let’s get some. There’s a Family Mart around the corner.”

 

“I hate Family Mart.”

 

“It’s just because of the onigiri thing, which I _agree_ with you on so please don’t tell me about it _again,_ but seriously. We can get cigarettes at the Family Mart and everything will be fine. You will not die. Please, Tsukki.”

 

There is no way Kei can resist that.

 

“Hey, we’re going to run to Family Mart,” Kei says, tugging Tadashi to the edge of the booth and standing him up next to him. “Be right back.”

 

Kuroo gives them a look like he knows what’s going on, which—he probably does. Tadashi isn’t exactly subtle when he’s drunk. But Takuya and Hinata are way too wrapped up in each other to notice anything, and Kuroo offers a little nod, so Kei grabs Tadashi by the wrist and tugs him out of the McDonald’s, the cool air of late-night Tokyo all refreshing and nice.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi says, rolling the syllables around on his tongue like he can’t get enough of the sound. “Tsukki, thank you. Tonight is really fun.”

 

Kei lets his hand slip down farther on Tadashi’s wrist, his fingers headed towards Tadashi’s palm. “I had a good time, yeah.”

 

“You didn’t dance!”

 

“It was fine watching you dance. You and Hinata and Bokuto, I mean.”

 

Tadashi laughs. They walk into Family Mart and Kei lets go of Tadashi’s wrist. They walk around the aisles and pick up a couple of hangover-curing drinks before heading to the counter. In the back of the store, Kei notices a tall, dark-haired man with black glasses laughing and holding hands with a shorter guy with floppy brown hair. They look so fond and familiar and _happy_ , and out of nowhere the shorter guy leans up and gives the taller guy a quick kiss, and the taller guy looks a little bit stunned and blushes, and—

 

Shit. Kei really doesn’t need to be watching this.

 

“Ogawa-sempai is pretty cool, right?” Tadashi says after Kei pays for the drinks and gets the cigarettes and a lighter. They walk outside and head for the smoking area, which is surprisingly deserted for a Saturday night. Then again, it _is_ almost 4:00 a.m.

 

Kei hands over the cigarettes and one of the hangover drinks, and Tadashi chugs the drink first before opening up the pack of American Spirits and tapping one out.

 

“You’re calling him ‘sempai’?”

 

“Well, sure,” Tadashi says, ripping open the pack of lighters with a cigarette between his lips. “He’s older than us but not by a lot. But it’s weird to call him ‘Takuya’ just because Hinata does. I don’t know, I just thought ‘sempai’ was a reasonable middle ground.”

 

Kei nods. “Yeah, he’s fine.”

 

Tadashi finally manages to get the lighter out and flicked on, and Kei watches as he brings the flame up to the cigarette at his lips and takes the first drag, the end of the cigarette glowing bright even against the neon of the Family Mart behind them.

 

“I just…it’s weird, you know, not seeing Kageyama with him,” Tadashi says, almost like it’s a confession. He takes another drag and holds the smoke in his lungs, offering the cigarette to Kei, who takes it. The first drag is always a little disorienting, but in his drunken state, Kei finds he doesn’t mind.

 

“I really did think they would figure it out, you know?” Tadashi says, apparently still musing on Hinata and Kageyama’s Relationship That Wasn’t.

 

“Yeah. They didn’t.”

 

“Maybe they’re just not meant to be,” Tadashi says. He makes a grabbing motion with his hand, and Kei takes another quick drag before handing back the cigarette. Tadashi keeps talking, Kei knows, but his mind is rushing off in another direction, something important on the tip of his tongue for the second time tonight, except this time he doesn’t shrug it away like he had at the club with Kuroo. He holds onto it, because—

 

“Do you really believe in that? People being ‘meant to be’, or whatever?” Kei asks, alcohol and nicotine making him reckless.

 

Tadashi looks over, startled. He’s in the middle of lighting a new cigarette. “I mean—I don’t know, I guess it’s kind of hard not to? Like, at the end of our lives, we will have ended up with one person. Or with no one. Or with however many people. I—this isn’t making sense. I guess I’m just saying that, like, where we are right now, we can’t see what’s going to happen. But as time goes on and things settle into place, only one of the trillions of possibilities for a given moment will have happened. You will have taken one path, and one path only. So—yeah, I guess in a sense, if you get beyond our limited perspective of things, it’s kind of hard _not_ to think that whatever is meant to happen will happen. It’s just a different way of saying that whatever is _going_ to happen will happen, which is like saying that things will happen. Which they will. Or they won’t. Maybe we don’t have any choice over any of it.”

 

Kei shrugs. “Sure, but that seems reductionist in that it ignores the potential for humans to make different choices, to change the set outcome.”

 

“There isn’t a set outcome right now, though, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, taking an emphatic drag from the cigarette and angling himself in further towards Kei. They’re tipped against the wall of the building, the lines of their forms reflected in the window next to them.

 

“Isn’t that the opposite of what you’re arguing?”

 

“No, I’m saying that—like, it’s not that there is one destined outcome, and we’re going to change whatever that destiny is so that it’s a different thing. It’s like, every moment has a billion options, and they are all equally likely. So every moment, one of those possibilities happens, and that’s the thing that happened. There’s no changing it. I can’t guess what’s going to happen and then make a different choice, because all outcomes for any given moment are equally likely until one of those options has been picked. Every moment is all or nothing, Tsukki. Does that make sense?”

 

Kei purses his lips. “Sure, but all options are not equally likely. Right now, outside of this Family Mart, it’s pretty likely that the next moment we experience will be someone walking out the door and us seeing them. It’s very unlikely that we will experience an elephant walking out that door, and us seeing that instead.”

 

Tadashi bites his lips and hands over the already-close-to-gone cigarette. “Well, shit, I guess that’s true.”

 

The couple from earlier walks out the door of the Family Mart. The taller guy bumps his shoulder fondly into the small frame of his brunette companion, and they giggle and share another quick kiss, and then the brunette ducks his head into the taller guy’s shoulder. It’s entirely too adorable.

 

Tadashi smiles. “Well, I guess that doesn’t really count as an elephant, but it is something, right?” He muses, looking all drunk and nicotine-high and sleepy. “It’s nice to see that around here. I feel like I never see guys being cute together in Sendai.”

 

Kei feels his blood go—well, not hot, really, but kind of tingly and tart, like eating sour cherries in the summer. “Yeah,” he says. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

 

“I never see girls being cute together in Sendai either, even though I know for a fact there are girls who like girls in Miyagi,” Tadashi says as they cross the parking lot of the Family Mart and head back for the McDonald’s. “Like, Yachi goes on dates with hot girls all the time. Fuck, Yachi has a nonbinary friend who’s also asexual, or maybe demisexual? Well, anyways, they go on dates with people and it’s, like, not a big deal, but—I don’t know, maybe up north everyone just doesn’t like PDA? Or they’re, like, afraid of being non-traditional in the open, or something?”

 

“What’s demisexual?” Kei blurts.

 

“Oh, it’s under the asexual umbrella, but it’s where you don’t feel sexual attraction to someone unless you develop a close emotional bond with them. I mean, there’s probably more to it than that, and obviously everyone’s experiences are different and stuff, but that’s the gist of it.”

 

Kei feels his throat go dry, and he’s pretty sure it’s not from the cigarettes. “Oh.”

 

“Are you okay? Tsukki?”

 

“I’m just kind of drunk,” he says. “I’m fine.”

 

Tadashi suddenly looks a lot more sober than he had a minute prior. “Hey. Tsukki. _Kei._ We’ve had this conversation a million times. We both get shitty and self-destructive when we don’t talk to each other. What’s going on?”

 

Kei shakes his head, the motion making him dizzy and a little sick. “I’ll tell you, I will. I just want to do it when we’re sober.”

 

“Tomorrow when we get home, maybe. Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

 

“I won’t,” Kei says, his head feeling miles away.

 

“Hey, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, squeezing his hand to bring him back. “You’re my best friend. Nothing can ever change that.”

 

Kei nods as relief washes over him. “Yeah. I know. I got it.”

 

Tadashi smiles. “And I got you!”

 

They get back inside to see Hinata making out with Ogawa while Kuroo plays around on his phone.

 

“I think it’s time to go. Everyone here is drunk,” Kuroo says, gesturing to Hinata and Ogawa and then himself, and then, after a pause, at Tadashi and Kei. “You guys were out smoking, weren’t you?” He says.

 

Tadashi grins, squeezes the hand Kei hadn’t realized he was still holding, and rests his head on Kei’s shoulder. “What can we say? We’re kind of trashed right now.”

 

Kuroo laughs. “Come on, children. Time for bed.”

 

Hinata and Ogawa break apart. “But mom,” Hinata whines, dragging the word out.

 

Kuroo tuts and pulls Hinata to his feet. “Come on. Let’s all get home and drink some more water. We’re going to regret this tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No one regrets it more than Tadashi and Kei, it turns out, because while everyone else is moping around in Kuroo and Kenma and Hinata’s apartment with no plans to move all day, Tadashi and Kei have to catch the 12:00 p.m. bullet train.

 

“Fuck, I’m going to puke. I’m going to puke on the train, there’s no way I’m not,” Tadashi says, leaning against Kei on the couch in Hinata’s living room, Kenma in the kitchen making breakfast because he claims eggs and rice is a pretty good hangover cure.

 

“Have you ever even been hungover?” Kei had asked when Kenma had said this.

 

Kenma had nodded his head so seriously that Kei had actually been kind of taken aback.

 

“You’ll be fine. It’s only a few hours, anyways,” Kei says, aiming for reassuring and instead just sounding tired. Between the two of them, he’s definitely less hungover, but he’s still feeling it. He’s not entirely sure that he won’t be puking too.

 

“Do you think Ogawa-sempai will ever wake up?” Tadashi murmurs to Kei, rolling his head over towards Ogawa, who is sleeping on the loveseat in the corner. Ogawa had insisted that with all of them drunk, it wouldn’t be okay for him to sleep in Hinata’s bed, because of consent and all. Everyone else had agreed, impressed with his good judgment.

 

(“We shouldn’t be impressed with this,” Kuroo had said. “We should just expect this out of everybody; god, guys, come on, have higher standards!”

 

“Yeah, we get it, you’re the master of sex-related social justice,” Hinata had said. “I still say he can sleep in my bed.”

 

“You fell down the stairs when we left McDonald’s, Hinata. You’re in no state of mind to be making decisions about anything right now,” Tadashi had argued.

 

“Yamaguchi is right, Hina-chan,” Ogawa had said, settling in on the love seat.)

 

“I would say he’ll wake up as soon as Hinata stumbles out of his room, because Hinata will probably be completely fine and energetic like he literally always is,” Kei says, already groaning at the thought.

 

Tadashi groans back. “No. I don’t like that. Make that not happen, Tsukki.”

 

Kuroo emerges from his own room then, and he heads straight for the kitchen to press a kiss to the side of Kenma’s head. He seems careful about the way he touches his boyfriend, and Kei pays special attention to how Kenma turns and whispers a few things into Kuroo’s ear. Kuroo nods, expression serious, like he’s taking in some important information and cataloging it away for later, and he drops one more kiss to Kenma’s forehead and then doesn’t touch Kenma again for the rest of the time he spends getting coffee and sipping it at the kitchen table.

 

“How much do you know about Kenma,” Kei asks Tadashi as they lounge in a tangle of limbs on the couch, Tadashi’s head a heavy weight against Kei’s shoulder. He keeps his voice quiet, because obviously he doesn’t want Kuroo and Kenma to hear whatever gossip might come up.

 

Tadashi bites his lip. “A little. I mean…Hinata has told me some stuff, but I didn’t think you’d care so I never said anything.”

 

Kei squints a little and pushes his glasses up on his nose. “Well, now I do care. Tell me when we get home?”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, sure. But…it’s kind of, like, private? I don’t know, like, it’s just…not something to share, like…”

 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Kei says. “If you said you wouldn’t, or whatever.”

 

Tadashi shrugs. “No, it’s not that. More just, like, I don’t know, it’s like how you don’t out people, or whatever.”

 

“You can tell him,” Kenma says, suddenly appearing in front of them. “I know you’re talking about me, and I know what Hinata has told you, Yamaguchi-kun, because he asked me before he told you. But it’s fine. You can tell Tsukishima-kun. But later. Ogawa might wake up, and he still has to earn my trust.”

 

Kei is honestly a little surprised. “Oh. Um, thanks.”

 

Kenma nods. “And here, eat this. It’ll help you feel better.”

 

Kei and Tadashi both eat it, and it does help, but once they get on the bullet train, it doesn’t matter. Surprisingly, it isn’t Tadashi who pukes; that particular moment of glory is reserved for Kei, who is lucky enough to only throw up twice, and to have Tadashi with him the whole time, rubbing soft circles on his back and pressing a wet paper towel to the back of his neck, his gentle voice whispering soft words of comfort into Kei’s ear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So Kenma has autism spectrum disorder,” Tadashi says that night as they lie on their tiny couch, their hangovers a little more manageable now but still not exactly pleasant.

 

“Oh,” Kei says, staring at the ceiling and letting himself tip a little more firmly against Tadashi. They’re pressed together the way they always are when it’s late at night and they’re on the couch in the living room, the lamplight yellow and warm, a blanket draped over their knees.

 

“Yeah. So, like, he just has certain things he needs Kuroo to do for him, or whatever. Things he likes, things he doesn’t like. The sensory integration stuff, and, like, sometimes he’s nonverbal but not always, obviously. I don’t know much about the specifics, and, like, autism is really different for everyone, so you can’t just look up symptoms and think that everyone with autism experiences those things. You could probably ask Kenma if you want to know more.”

 

“Okay. Thanks for telling me. I’m glad he said you could.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, Kenma is awesome. I don’t talk to him a lot, but Hinata obviously thinks he’s great, so.”

 

Kei nods. “Yeah.”

 

It takes about a minute before Tadashi starts prodding at Kei’s ankle with his foot. “So. You going to tell me whatever it was you were thinking about last night when you got all quiet?”

 

Kei swallows. “I guess.” He’s not uncomfortable, really; he’s just thinking that maybe he should do some more research before he shares this.

 

“Hey,” Tadashi says, his foot poking at Kei’s leg a little more insistently. “I know that face, like you want to think about it more on your own, and that’s fine, if that’s what you want. But you can share an incomplete idea with me, if you want to. Best friends, right?”

 

“Nothing can change that,” Kei mutters, running his hand through his hair and pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Tadashi snuggles his nose into Kei’s throat all of a sudden. “Is it easier if we’re not looking at each other?”

 

Kei swallows. “Yeah. But…maybe the other way?”

 

Tadashi draws back and leans his head back, and Kei leans forward to rest his head against Tadashi’s shoulder. It’s not exactly the way Tadashi likes to press his whole face into Kei’s neck, because Kei is still somewhat uncomfortable with physically putting himself into anyone else’s hands, even if he will easily accept Tadashi into his own arms whenever Tadashi needs.

 

But maybe that in itself is a part of what Kei is about to spill into the air between them, this shared consciousness they’ve built in the past few years of their friendship.

 

“I think…maybe…I’m demisexual. Or, like, asexual-ish. I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell.” The words feel like a confession as Kei says them, and he realizes after the fact how comfortable they feel, how he’s scared and yet relieved to have said them, even if he’s still uncertain about everything.

 

“Hmm,” Tadashi says. “Yeah, that makes sense. Do you want to identify as one of those? Or, like, both? I mean, it’s whatever you prefer, you know?”

 

Kei shrugs, swallows, chews his lip. “I don’t know.”

 

Tadashi presses his nose into Kei’s hair. “Okay.”

 

They’re silent for a minute or two and then Tadashi takes a breath, and Kei can feel him swallow and then take a breath.

 

“I’m bi. Just, like, I think you knew that, but, like, to just be really honest and formal, or whatever. I guess I’ve never actually said it. I’m bisexual, and I guess biromantic, too? Like, I don’t want to identify as pansexual like Kuroo, because I just don’t know if that’s really accurate. But…I like girls, and I like boys, too.”

 

Kei thinks about it. “I didn’t know that,” he says after a minute. “It’s fine, obviously. But, like, I guess I just never really thought about it. Maybe because I don’t think about it for me. So I just don’t really think about it for anyone.”

 

Tadashi tightens his arms around Kei. “I’m glad it’s okay.”

 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? Almost everyone we know identifies as something other than straight.”

 

“Do you…can I ask if you have any particular romantic orientation?”

 

Kei thinks about it for a second. Has he ever had a crush? Has he ever looked at anyone and wanted…whatever people are supposed to want when they like-like a person? He thinks of wanting to protect someone, cherish them, keep them close and happy and laughing. He wraps his arms around Tadashi, snaking his arm between the couch and Tadashi’s back. He nuzzles his nose a little further into Tadashi’s throat, finally relaxing into the contact.

 

Kei can’t imagine ever wanting to hold another body to his own, and he doesn’t like physical contact, and he really can’t imagine a future meeting with someone who he falls hard for and can’t ever let go of. That just seems impossible.

 

“Tsukki?”

 

Kei ducks his head and tucks himself further into Tadashi. “Sorry, I just want you close.”

 

Wait.

 

What.

 

_What._

 

“Okay, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, running his fingers through Kei’s hair, but Kei is—Kei is—

 

Kei can’t speak. Can’t even breathe. Everything is spinning, maybe he’s going to puke again, the room is careening out of focus, his heart is pounding, he’s—he’s—

 

“Kei? Kei, hey, breathe with me, tell me five things. Anything.”

 

Kei feels the second the need for air grows too big to ignore, his lungs sucking in a ragged gasp as he trembles and lets his eyes dart around, settling on too many things to choose.

 

“Five things, Kei,” Tadashi says, his voice calm, soothing.

 

“The—refrigerator,” Kei manages. “The toaster oven.”

 

“Okay. Okay, that’s two. Can you give me three more?”

 

“I—the arm of the couch.” His breathing is coming fast but it’s coming, he’s not suffocating, it’s okay.

 

“The remote for the air conditioner.”

 

“One more, Kei. You’re doing so well,” Tadashi says, shifting a little to tug Kei in even closer, if that’s possible.

 

“You,” Kei says, because there’s nothing else he can say. He means it in every way he possibly can: he is answering Tadashi’s original question, the one that had caused this panic, but he is also giving Tadashi something he sees, feels, _knows_ —because Tadashi is here and Tadashi is—

 

Everything.

 

_What._

 

“You back?” Tadashi asks after a few long seconds of silence. Kei takes one more breath and nods, relaxing until his limbs feel thick and heavy and limp against the soft curves of Tadashi’s smaller frame.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “That doesn’t usually happen to me.”

 

“Yeah, but it happens to me. So you knew how to handle it. You did good.”

 

“Thanks,” Kei says, because it weirdly does make him feel better, receiving praise from Tadashi.

 

“I didn’t do anything,” Tadashi says, voice light.

 

“I haven’t ever thought about it before. My romantic orientation. Or sexual, I guess. I don’t know.”

 

“Okay. Well, if you want to tell me you can, or you don’t have to.”

 

“I just think maybe I’m demisexual. Is there the same thing with romantic orientation?”

 

“Sure. Demiromantic.”

 

“Yeah. That. Or, like, sort of aromantic. I don’t…I need to do more research.”

 

“Okay, sure, Tsukki!” Tadashi presses a kiss to Kei’s forehead all quick and thoughtless, and Kei wonders if he even realizes he’s done it. “You want to keep talking about it? Or do some research together, right now?”

 

“No,” Kei says, because he’s honestly overwhelmed and still hungover and kind of hungry, and he needs some time to process before he continues with this particular line of thought. “I want to think. I want to eat.”

 

Kei pulls away, albeit reluctantly, and sees that Tadashi is smiling at him like he’s thrilled. “Don’t look at me like that,” Kei says, blushing and looking away as he stretches his arms above his head.

 

“I’m just happy.”

 

“Because I want to eat?”

 

“Yes,” Tadashi says, seriously. He stands up and extends his arm to grip Kei’s wrist and pull him to his feet, and together they cross to the little kitchenette to dig through their ingredients to make something for dinner. “I’m happy when you’re okay. Like, when it’s just easy for you to want to eat, and stuff. I’m not going to minimize that.”

 

Kei nods. He has the sudden urge to do the same to Tadashi, to acknowledge Tadashi’s attempts to stop burning himself with their iron, which, okay, he totally still does sometimes even though he tries really hard not to. Kei knows how hard Tadashi tries.

 

But—he can’t say anything, and he can’t communicate it through touch without, like, resting a hand on Tadashi’s hip, which would be—

 

Kei thinks, out of nowhere, of Kuroo’s words. _It’s actually a risk in itself to believe that doing nothing means nothing will change._

 

“Tadashi,” Kei says, and Tadashi hums a little and turns to look up at him, all earnest and adorable, and—

 

How is it possible that Kei hasn’t noticed this before?

 

“Tadashi, it’s really—it’s good when you don’t burn yourself,” he says, taking a deep breath and stepping forward to press his hands against Tadashi’s hips. He knows the skin there is scarred beneath Tadashi’s clothing, and he lets his thumbs rub back and forth over the place where the splotchy red burn-marks lie.

 

Tadashi grins so big his eyes close. “Thanks, Tsukki!”

 

And god, Tadashi looks so beautiful like that, as bright as Hinata or brighter, even, which is really, really saying something. Kei thinks about what it would be like to lean in and press his mouth against Tadashi’s, wonders if Tadashi would gasp below him, would bite his lip or suck all sweet and delightful.

 

Shit—what if Tadashi wouldn’t respond at all?

 

It hits Kei, then, that he’s been so caught up in his own realizations that he hasn’t even considered Tadashi’s potential feelings. Hasn’t thought about whether Tadashi is into him too, which, like, why _would_ he be, when Kei is such a mess and sometimes can’t eat and gets all down on himself for no reason, when Tadashi is kind of a literal angel who shines, shines, _shines—_

 

Oh god.

  
“Come on,” Kei says, refocusing his attention on the fridge. “We should eat.”

 

There’s no panic, not this time, but Kei still feels a little off-kilter as he draws back from Tadashi and moves to start preparing dinner.

 

“You okay, Tsukki?”

 

Kei nods, and it’s not a lie. “Yeah. Just have a lot to think about.”

 

Tadashi smiles and starts pulling vegetables out of the refrigerator. “Yeah, I get it. Well, you can tell me anything, so just let me know.”

 

Kei nods. “I will,” he says. And he will, he really will.

 

He just needs some time to think things through.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once Kei has noticed the extent of his… _feelings_ , he guesses he can call them, for Tadashi, it’s hard not to notice how utterly and completely they live in each other’s pockets. They have separate rooms at their apartment, and they really do sleep in them, but they snuggle on the couch in the evenings and usually have their chairs right next to each other at the table instead of sitting across from each other like normal people. Tadashi touches Kei _all the time,_ like, so much that Kei is baffled that he ever _didn’t_ notice the constant contact: a hand brushed against his elbow as Tadashi reaches around him for the toothpaste, their foreheads resting together as they bend to watch a video on one of their phones, their legs intertwined while they do homework or listen to music in separate headphones, quietly doing their own things in the same space.

 

Kei is going to address it. He really is. He just doesn’t know how to yet, and even though he tries to tell himself he should just _talk_ to Tadashi about it, because that’s what they always promise each other they’ll do, it just—

 

It feels really important that Kei figure out what he actually wants before he brings this up. So he waits. Tadashi, of course, can tell something is off, but when Kei calmly requests more time to process on his own, Tadashi smiles and says okay. That he won’t press unless he feels like something is really wrong.

 

Which. It isn’t. It actually kind of feels like things are going to go amazingly, spectacularly right.

 

But if Tadashi and Kei are in this sort of positive anticipatory upwards trajectory, things aren’t going that way for everyone else.

 

“Have you heard from Hinata lately?” Tadashi asks one night, when they’re both shockingly free from homework and class and work and any other responsibilities they each have. They’re lying around on the floor in the living room, because when Kei had gotten home, Tadashi had been spread out on a blanket with his headphones in jamming out to some new K-Pop song he’d found, and when Kei had asked why he wasn’t on the couch, he’d just shrugged and said, “I felt like having a living room picnic.”

 

So they’d eaten dinner on the floor, and then they’d started fooling around on their phones and half-watching a fake documentary about dragons that’s kind of old but also really entertaining even if it’s in English, forcing Kei to read the subtitles.

 

“No. Hinata only talks to you,” Kei says. He checks his LINE, and sure enough, the last message he’d received from Hinata was in the Karasuno volleyball group chat during their third year of high school.

 

“Well, that’s the thing,” Tadashi says. “He’s, like…not talking to me right now. I mean, I know he’s busy with school and his boyfriend and everything, but…I don’t know. He’s just really distant. And last time I talked to him, he ended up getting kind of mad at me.”

 

Kei frowns. “Over what?”

 

“I—he said we shouldn’t talk because, like, I don’t know…it was…he acted like I was…interested in him. And like I was pushing for something to happen between us, or something, when, like…that’s just. Not a thing.”

 

Kei frowns. “If anything, he would be mad at Kageyama, right? If Kageyama were still pushing for something.”

 

Tadashi averts his gaze. “I mean…yeah. Except…”

 

“What?”

 

“Look, I haven’t told you this because, like, I mean I only recently came out to you and stuff, so like—”

 

“Spit it out.”

 

“Tsukki, Hinata was my first kiss.”

 

Kei blinks, eyes wide behind his glasses. “What?”

 

Tadashi blushes and ducks his head a little. “It wasn’t a big deal. It was, like, a few weeks after you and I had our whole thing in the club room.”

 

Kei feels something oily and sick slide through him and realizes he’s retroactively jealous of Hinata.

 

But whatever. That can’t be helped.

 

“Okay, tell me the story.”

 

“Tsukki…”

 

“Come on. I want to know.”

 

“It was—I was kind of down one day, when—it was when you weren’t at school. Remember, because you had to go to the dentist or whatever? Right at the end of third year?”

 

“Not really, but that sounds like something that would’ve happened.”

 

“Right, so before practice, Hinata and I were hanging out outside the gym. Kageyama was off somewhere, I don’t know. But…we just, we had this really good conversation. I mean, I didn’t tell him specifics, really, but…I think maybe he knew. And I did end up telling him later. About my unhealthy coping. He’s actually helped me a few times since then, with not feeling like I want to cut or whatever.”

 

“That’s good,” Kei says. “Tell me that story later.”

 

“Sorry, sorry. Okay, so yeah, I don’t know, we were just kind of sitting there behind the gym, and he said something about how—how cute I was, and I asked him about Kageyama, and he…he said yeah, he liked Kageyama, a lot, but…he couldn’t wait for Kageyama forever, just like I couldn’t wait for…anyways, Hinata and I just had a silly teenager moment and were like…we should totally just kiss each other because we’re friends and we both know the other one is cute and whatnot. I mean, Hinata is fucking _adorable_ , you know he is—he is literal sunshine, obviously, so. I don’t know. We both just kind of leaned in, and we kissed. And there was a lot of giggling involved, and he bit me. And that’s all.” Tadashi has gone bright red, but he looks kind of nostalgic and sappy over the whole thing, and Kei finds himself fighting a smile.

 

“I’m glad your first kiss was like that.”

 

Tadashi nods, smiles. “Yeah, me too.”

 

There’s something on the tip of Kei’s tongue, and he runs back through what Tadashi has just said. Oh. There it is. “Who were you waiting for?”

 

Tadashi looks up from where he’s been picking at the seam of the couch cushion, his expression has nervous and half apologetic. “Don’t worry about it, Tsukki. It was high school,” he says, biting his lip. It’s like he’d been hoping Kei wouldn’t pick up on his little slip, but that he’d known he wouldn’t get that lucky.

 

It’s that expression that makes Kei nod and drop it, even if he is still curious.

 

“Anyways, so. You’re not, like, into Hinata now, though, so you’re obviously not pushing him to date you,” Kei says.

 

Tadashi nods, shrugs. “I wasn’t ever really _into_ him in the first place, I guess. He’s just…Hinata. You know?”

 

Kei nods, because he knows all this is true. And Tadashi has had crushes on people since then, Kei knows. Tadashi has told him about the girl in his creative nonfiction class he’d had a thing for last year. Kei has even witnessed a couple of Tadashi’s tipsy public make-outs at the parties they’ve gone to, which, to be fair, add up to a grand total of three. Anyways, it’s not as if Kei hasn’t kissed anyone ever, because he has, even if no one needs to know.

 

Wait. Honesty. “I kissed Kuroo,” he admits. “During training camp first year.”

 

Tadashi stares for a second and then bursts out laughing.

 

“What?” Kei asks, scowling a little even though he’s not really mad.

 

Tadashi lets out a few more giggles and then reigns himself in. “Sorry. That just—makes so much sense.”

 

Kei bites his lip. “Does that mean I’m not asexual or whatever?”

 

Tadashi giggles again. “No, what? Of course not! You can kiss someone without being sexually attracted to them. And orientations can be fluid, and like, your experiences don’t define you. You can be asexual and still have kissed Kuroo Tetsurou. You can be asexual and still have had sex with Kuroo Tetsurou, or with anyone else. It’s just about how _you_ feel.”

 

Kei nods. “Okay. I didn’t have sex with Kuroo, or anyone. Off topic though. Back to Hinata.”

 

Tadashi nods. Kei thinks through what he knows, which is that Tadashi isn’t into Hinata, and that Hinata was totally normal the last time they saw him. What’s changed? “Do you think this is something to do with Ogawa?” Kei muses.

 

Tadashi tilts his head. “Ogawa? I don’t—I mean, I don’t think so. He didn’t seem the type to be possessive, did he? When we met him?”

 

Kei thinks about it. Shrugs. “No, I don’t think so.”

 

Tadashi purses his lips. “Maybe Hinata just doesn’t really need me anymore. I mean…he’s had this boyfriend for a few months, and I think they’re basically living together, from what he _has_ told me. I don’t know. I guess he just doesn’t really want to talk to me anymore. It’s just—he and I had talked about getting together during Obon, but, like, I guess that’s not happening.”

 

Kei hesitates for only a moment before he sits up to rest his back against the couch, his position allowing him to tug Tadashi over so Tadashi’s head is in Kei’s lap. “He’s probably just busy, Tadashi.”

 

Tadashi worries his lip between his teeth. “I don’t feel good.”

 

“Like you feel sick, or like you want to cut?” They always call it cutting, for some reason, even though Tadashi never takes a razor to his skin anymore. For the past few years, he’s stuck with the iron.

 

“Like I want to cut.”

 

“I was reading something the other day that said you could try dripping hot wax on yourself, because it’s not as dangerous. No permanent damage, or whatever. If you think that would help.”

 

Tadashi turns over so he can press his face to Kei’s stomach. “I don’t know. I’ve read that before too, and I haven’t done it just because, like, I don’t know. You know I like the visual. Of the healing scab, or the scar, or whatever.”

 

Kei runs a hand through Tadashi’s hair. “I know.”

 

“I think…I could not do it. I just. I don’t really want to talk for the rest of the night, if that’s okay. Like, I can do that instead. Just not talk, and you can snuggle me. If you’re okay with that.”

 

Kei nods. Tadashi gets like this sometimes, all averse to verbal communication, and it’s always okay with Kei. “Yeah. Just tap me if you need something. I’ll grab a notebook and a pen for you.”

 

Tadashi nods, opening his mouth probably so he can thank Kei, but Kei can see the way his breath catches in his throat, his tongue moving around his mouth like it doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Tadashi. It’s fine. I really don’t mind.” Kei grabs the usual notebook and pen that they use when Tadashi isn’t talking. It’s really only there in case Tadashi needs something important and can’t ask for it out loud—things like painkillers, or water, or for all the lights to be turned off, or to sleep in Kei’s bed.

 

Jesus, Kei thinks. They’re practically already married. They’re as bad as Suga and Daichi were during that first year at Karasuno, and Tadashi and Kei aren’t even dating.

 

Tadashi is sitting on the couch when Kei returns with the notebook, and Kei sits down next to him, and together they watch the rest of the dragon documentary. Tadashi doesn’t say a word, but he does give Kei a hug and a big smile before they head into their separate bedrooms for the night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With radio silence from Hinata, Tadashi decides that they should invite their ragtag group of Karasuno friends over during Obon instead of pushing for whatever visiting Tadashi and Hinata had tentatively planned. Kei isn’t opposed to the idea; as long as he’s not already stressed out, he can handle having a few people over to their apartment even if the place is small and easily crowded. And Tadashi is so excited about the whole thing that Kei can’t help but agree.

 

This is how Kei finds himself on his tiny couch, squished between Nishinoya and Tanaka on one side and a nervous-looking Asahi-san on the other.

 

“This is a terrible seating arrangement,” Kei complains, although he’s not sure anyone is listening.

 

Asahi-san apparently is, because he looks over with this deer-in-the-headlights stare and starts stuttering. “I’m sorry, I can—I can move—”

 

“Stop being a dick, Tsukishima,” Nishinoya says, shoving at Kei’s shoulder, which really only succeeds in toppling Kei a little bit towards Asahi-san. “This is cozy,” he says, wiggling himself further down in the cushions and moving his arms and legs so he’s somehow even _more_ thoroughly sprawled across both Tanaka _and_ Kei.

 

“I don’t see why you like it,” Kei retorts. “You’re not even sitting next to the person you want to be sitting next to.”

 

Kei does not care even slightly that both Nishinoya and Asahi-san flush bright red when they hear this statement.

 

“Calm down, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, and oh yeah, he’s really adorable when he’s tipsy. They’ve all had a couple of drinks, and even though they’re replacing alcohol with water early tonight because no one feels like being hungover tomorrow, it’s nice to have this little buzz of relaxation at the back of his skull. It’s good to see Tadashi more relaxed, too, seeing as the apparent end of his friendship with Hinata has been making him edgy and anxious for the past month and a half.

 

“Yeah, _Tsukki,_ ” Nishinoya says. “You aren’t either.” Nishinoya turns himself until he is literally lying across the laps of the other three people on the couch.

 

“I’m not what?” Kei asks. “Why are you touching me this much?”

 

Tadashi settles himself on the floor between Kei’s legs, resting the side of his head against Kei’s knee. He tilts his head back to flash Kei a smile, his eyes closing like he’s trying to be extra cute, and. Well. It’s working.

 

“Never mind,” Nishinoya grumbles. He presses his feet against Asahi-san’s thigh. “Asahi-san, do you think your hands are bigger than my feet? Because I feel like they are.”

 

Asahi-san purses his lips, and Kei is surprised to see that he’s actually very intently focused on this question. “I don’t know? You are pretty tiny. We could check?”

 

Nishinoya nods like a puppy and wiggles his sock-clad toes a little, and Asahi-san presses his palm against Nishinoya’s foot like this is not the weirdest thing to ever take place in Kei and Tadashi’s living room. As it turns out, Asahi-san’s fingers do in fact stretch up a centimeter or so above the end of Nishinoya’s toes.

 

“Dude,” Tanaka says, “You know what they say about guys with big hands.”

 

Everyone scoffs. Well, everyone except Asahi-san, who blushes, and Nishinoya, who laughs as if this is not the most predictable joke Tanaka could have made.

 

“Okay, so I think we’re going to have to go get cabbage from the store,” Suga says as he emerges from the kitchen, where he and Daichi-san have been preparing the ingredients for okonomiyaki. He looks as beautiful as ever, but there’s this sort of sadness about him that Kei knows is because Daichi is leaving in a couple weeks to start a new job in Singapore. He’s only supposed to be gone for a year at the most, but neither one of them is looking forward to doing long-distance, and it shows in how reserved they’re acting tonight, how intentionally affectionate they are. Kei thinks maybe this moment is the first time tonight that he’s seen Suga without Daichi-san pressed all up against his side.

 

Kei bites his lip and wonders how that would feel, anticipating a separation that large with your—well, Kei doesn’t have a long-term boyfriend or anything, but Suga and Daichi-san are more than just boyfriends. They are best friends, companions in every sense. In Kei’s alcohol-blurred head, he realizes that he does have that, sort of, and having to be apart would hurt a lot. Even if you knew it was coming, and had kind of chosen it yourself. Hell, just keeping secrets and getting lost in their own heads during high school had been bad enough.

 

“Tsukki. Tsukki, pay attention to me,” Tadashi says, nudging at Kei’s ankle. Kei shakes himself out of his thoughts and looks down.

 

“What?”

 

“Do we need anything else from the store? I’m going to give Suga money for the cabbage, but we’ve got everything else, right?”

 

“Oh,” Kei says. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

 

“Okay,” Tadashi says, flashing that big, closed-eyes smile at him again. His shoulders come up around his ears as he does it, and he looks for all the world like some character out of a cutesy slice-of-life manga.

 

Kei kind of maybe stares. Tadashi stands up and goes to grab the money for Suga.

 

“Dude,” Tanaka says as soon as Tadashi is gone. “ _Dude._ ”

 

Nishinoya wiggles further into Tanaka’s lap, his feet moving to press randomly at Asahi-san’s thighs, and grins all feral and knowing. “Yep. I know. _Dude._ ”

 

Kei huffs and rolls his eyes, certain he shouldn’t engage. He sips at the beer he’s sharing with Tadashi—come to think of it, Kei hasn’t had propriety over his own drink at all tonight, every beer split with his best friend because why bother having their own when they share drinks all the time anyways—and thinks, fuck it. He’s tipsy, and being tipsy makes him curious and reduces his good judgment. “What,” Kei asks, tone more bored than questioning.

 

“ _Dude,_ ” Tanaka says.

 

“You have now said that word more times than is allowed in this living room. Leave.”

 

Nishinoya starts to laugh. “Whatever, _Tsukki._ ”

 

“Why are you calling me ‘Tsukki’?”

 

“What, is only _Tadashi_ allowed to do that?”

 

Ah, so that’s what this is about. Kei is not going to bite. He’s not. He’s really not.

 

“Why are you calling him ‘Tadashi’?” He asks.

 

Oops. Hook, line, and sinker.

 

Nishinoya’s grin gets impossibly more mischievous. “ _Dude,_ are you trying to tell me that you’re _not_ pining away after the boy who was just sitting at your feet giving you a shoujo manga smile? Although god knows _why_ you’re pining. It’s not like he’s not in love with you.”

 

Tanaka looks affronted for some reason, and he pokes Nishinoya in the side with a growl. Nishinoya squeaks and jerks up so quickly he falls off the couch, or, more accurately, the laps of the people who are _actually_ on the couch.

 

“You’re not supposed to just tell him, _dude,_ ” Tanaka gripes, kicking his feet at Nishinoya, who is literally rolling on the floor laughing. Kei glances at Asahi-san. He’s got this kind of faraway, dumb expression on his face, his eyes fixed on Nishinoya. He looks like he’s lost in thought, serious, but in a good way. Even Kei can tell there’s something going on there.

 

“You’re kind of a hypocrite,” Kei says to Nishinoya, who shakes his head and stands up.

 

“What’s that one mean again? Something with doctors, right?”

 

Kei rolls his eyes _again_. Honestly, they’re going to end up giving him a migraine. “That’s the Hippocratic Oath, and it is completely unrelated.”

 

“They should give it a different name, then.”

 

“You are unreasonably dumb.”

 

Tadashi appears in the doorway then, his hair kind of messy and his wide-necked t-shirt almost falling off one shoulder, his ripped black jeans clinging tight to his long legs. He looks young and soft and a little punky, his hair shaggy even though he’s trimmed it short enough that he can’t put it in a ponytail anymore. He smiles as soon as his eyes land on Kei, and it makes Kei’s heart stutter. Kei hasn’t seen Tadashi this contented in a couple months at least.

 

Kei must be staring as Tadashi comes over and sits back down between Kei’s legs, because Tanaka shoves at Kei’s shoulder and wiggles his eyebrows. Kei steadfastly ignores him. Tadashi curls up all pressed against Kei’s leg, and Kei kind of wonders.

 

Nah. There’s no way. Nishinoya is too dumb to be right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I got a text from Hinata today,” Tadashi says as he walks in the door. Kei looks up from his reading and raises an eyebrow.

 

“When did you last hear from him?”

 

Tadashi shrugs. “June.”

 

“So he didn’t text you for almost five months.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Yeah, I don’t know. He, um. He apologized.”

 

Kei scoots over to make room for Tadashi, who settles next to him on the couch and leans to rest his head against Kei’s shoulder. “For not talking to you?”

 

“Yeah, and…for our last conversation. I guess his boyfriend—well, _ex-_ boyfriend now—had, like, taken his phone and was texting me on it. In June. So, like, it wasn’t even Hinata who said all that stuff.”

 

Something in Kei’s chest goes hot and angry—not at Tadashi, or at Hinata, but at Ogawa. “What?”

 

Tadashi cuddles further into Kei’s chest, and Kei pulls him in without a second thought.

 

“Tsukki…Kei, I think something was really wrong. Hinata won’t say anything. I mean, he apologized, but he’s still being distant. He said they broke up in September, and…he just hadn’t talked to me because he was scared I would hate him for letting Ogawa text me from his phone.”

 

Kei frowns. “Do you?”

 

Tadashi draws back, looking at Kei with a startled expression. “What? No, of course not. Kei, I think Hinata was being abused. And just won’t tell me, or maybe doesn’t even realize it himself. I mean, going through your boyfriend’s phone and, like, aggressively texting his friend and saying the stuff he said, I mean—” Tadashi cuts off to bury his head back into Kei’s shoulder. “I told Hinata that I thought Ogawa was good for him. I _encouraged_ them to date. And—and, I think something was really wrong, and Hinata won’t tell me, and I’m, like, retroactively scared for him, and even though I know he’s out of the relationship, like—I don’t know. I’m just. Scared.”

 

“Do you want to go visit him?”

 

Tadashi nods. “Of course I do. If he’ll let me. I don’t know, he just seems so—not himself. Like, dancing around my questions and stuff, and then apologizing way too much, making all these self-deprecating jokes. Tsukki, I don’t know what to do.”

 

Kei thinks about it. He’s not close with Hinata, nor has he ever known someone in an abusive relationship—that he _knows_ about, he realizes, because obviously if Hinata had been in one, Kei and Tadashi hadn’t known. “You’re a good friend,” Kei finally settles on. “I think if you just support him however he needs, and however you can, then you’re helping him.”

 

“I—what if he won’t talk to me? What if he won’t tell me what really happened?”

 

Kei presses his nose into Tadashi’s hair. “It’s only been a couple of months, Tadashi. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

 

Tadashi huffs a wet laugh, and Kei realizes he’s crying. “You know, you’ve gotten really good at this. Like, emotions, and things.”

 

Kei feels his cheeks heat up. “What? No, I just know you well enough to know what to say.”

 

“So you’ve gotten really good at…me?” Tadashi says, his voice lilting so it almost sounds like a joke even though he’s still kind of crying.

 

Kei nods. “Yeah. I have.”

 

“Thanks, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, pulling back a little to wipe his eyes. Kei lets him go.

 

“Hey, what do you want for your birthday?” Kei says, a little out of nowhere.

 

Tadashi grins. “Oh, yeah! I forgot about that!”

 

Kei nods. “Yeah, well, you have a week to think about it.”

 

Tadashi hums and leans back against the couch, his tears gone even if the tracks of them remain. “Hmm, 22…that’s so old. Tsukki, I’m super old.”

 

“I’ve been 22 for two months.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re super old too!”

 

Kei shakes his head. “Yeah, so, what do you want?”

 

Tadashi bites his lip and looks over at Kei, and something in his expression is dark, like a suggestion that Kei isn’t sure he’s parsing correctly. There’s a glint there that Kei hasn’t seen before, like Tadashi is teasing at some hidden thing they’re both aware of but haven’t acknowledged. “I don’t know,” Tadashi says, his eyelashes fluttering. “I’ll let you figure something out.”

 

Kei looks back for a second and then, in a sudden burst of bravery, he stands up and leans in over Tadashi, his hands coming to rest on either side of Tadashi’s shoulders against the back of the couch, the whole long line of him curving over him so Tadashi has to tip his head back to keep eye contact. Kei leans in and in, down and down, and then he stops.

 

“I’ve got an idea,” Kei says.

 

Tadashi’s breath rushes out of him, his expression cracked open on candid surprise. Kei can see the tension in him, his arms stiff like he can’t decide whether to push forward towards Kei or to move away out of propriety or respect.

 

But Kei draws back with a smirk, running a hand through his hair as he stands to his full height. “What do you want for dinner?” He asks as he strides away.

 

Tadashi takes a second before he replies, and when Kei looks back, Tadashi is staring at him. Kei feels a shiver run through him.

 

Yeah.

 

Yeah.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You got—but, but how, _Tsukki_ , these tickets were sold out, like—the day they went on sale, how did you—”

 

Kei shrugs, nonchalant. “I knew you’d want them. I had Suga help me out, since he works for that PR place.”

 

“And he—no, like, you don’t understand, this is like, _impossible,_ like, you can’t just _get me tickets_ to—”

 

“I can and I did, obviously. Two tickets, in the orchestra section. Please do not take me.”

 

“I know, I know, don’t worry, you got me the tickets so I won’t make you come with me—maybe Hinata can come up for that weekend or something, oh my god, _Tsukki—_ ”

 

Kei just offers a little smirk, his lips as wicked as he can make them. “I’m glad you’re excited,” he says, holding eye contact as well as he can with Tadashi literally jumping up and down in front of him.

 

Tadashi must sense the intensity of Kei’s demeanor, because he stops jumping and looks up at him with this confused little expression that makes something in Kei’s chest hum with how cute it is. “Tsukki?”

 

Kei lets his gaze rove down across the bridge of Tadashi’s nose, his collarbones, his waist, before he jumps his gaze back up to linger for a second on Tadashi’s lips. And then he flicks his eyes back up to Tadashi’s and holds eye contact for a second before turning away.

 

“I made tempura for dinner, since I know you like it.”

 

Tadashi is still staring at Tsukki like he’s not quite sure what’s going on. “Oh, yeah, I do. I—let me go put my stuff down—I mean, I just walked in the door and— _Tsukki._ ”

 

Kei hums. “Change into something comfortable. We’re watching all your superhero movies in English as your present.”

 

“Tsukki, you got me tickets to—”

 

“I listen to you talk about it all the time. I will take the tickets away if I have to hear another word about some person whose stage name is Bam Dragon or whatever.”

 

“Tsukki, who do you _think_ you’re talking about, because of the two people whose names you might be mixing up right now, neither of them is in—”

 

“ _Go change._ ”

 

Tadashi does as instructed and pretty soon they’re sitting on the couch eating tempura and watching some superhero drone on and on about freedom and other stereotypical American values. Tadashi is fidgety, and Kei chalks it up to the fact that they’re not sitting pressed up against each other like they normally do. Kei had intentionally sat down farther away from Tadashi than he usually sits, just to throw Tadashi a little off-balance. Kei hadn’t really intended to turn Tadashi’s birthday into—well, whatever is going on here now, but there’s something about Tadashi’s expression, something buzzing just under the surface of Kei’s skin, that makes Kei feel restless and ready for anything. Ready for this.

 

Yeah.

 

Yeah.

 

After they’ve finished eating, Tadashi starts trying to slide in a little closer, like he’s attempting to revert things to the status quo. Kei thinks for a second that maybe he should drop this, whatever _this_ is, except Tadashi’s knee is bouncing up and down with agitated energy, and he looks anticipatory more so than anxious, and Kei looks for a second at Tadashi’s leg and then reaches out to still its motion. Tadashi jumps a little under his touch.

 

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

 

Kei turns his head to look at Tadashi, who meets his eyes with this look of uncertainty, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. Kei shrugs. “It’s fine.”

 

Tadashi bites his lip and Kei tracks the motion, his blood running just a little bit hot. It feels weird to be indulging this sort of attraction, which Kei still isn’t sure he’s feeling the way other people feel, but—he wants to do this. Tadashi looks off-kilter and just barely out of it, like he does when he’s smoking or when he’s drunk, and Kei wants to see more, and to be the source of Tadashi’s delirium. It’s not lust, exactly, but it’s something.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi murmurs, and Kei realizes he’s been staring. He ducks his head closer, looks at Tadashi’s lips, watches Tadashi’s eyes flick down a little—

 

Kei leans back.

 

“Did you have a good birthday, Tadashi?” Kei asks, his eyes fixed on the movie as if he’s actually watching it.

 

Tadashi is tense beside him. “Yeah, Tsukki. I did.”

 

There’s a moment of silence, and Kei shifts his leg over towards Tadashi, who tenses more.

 

Except then, Tadashi lets out a breath and seems to just relax. Kei looks over and there’s this cool confidence to him, just like the façade Kei has put on for the evening, and Kei realizes—shit, maybe he’s out of his depth.

 

“I’m glad we’re the same age again,” Tadashi says, his expression—oh for the love of god— _coy._

 

Kei swallows, ramps up his game. “You’ll always be younger than me, Tadashi,” he says, angling himself towards Tadashi and sitting up a little so he can maintain his height advantage. “And smaller,” he says. “You used to be so _tiny,_ remember?”

 

Tadashi tilts his chin back, defiant. “You like it,” he says, which—well, he’s not wrong.

 

Kei looks him over all slow and deliberate, a gaze effected to ache heat through Tadashi’s veins. Tadashi is splayed across his side of the couch, self-assured and playing at innocence but so obviously _wanting,_ the angles of him sharp, the curves of him soft, the whole of him an entreaty to Kei to play him just right until they both see stars.

 

It’s surprisingly satisfying.

 

Kei sits up a little so that Tadashi is half under him even if they’re still not touching. “I’m not averse,” he says, and he means a lot of things.

 

Tadashi gets it. “What do you want, Tsukki?” Tadashi’s eyelashes flutter, his lips part just enough to look suggestive, and then he runs his tongue over his bottom lip and bites it as if remembering himself, even though Kei knows it’s just a part of the act. Kei tracks the motion as his breath catches in his throat, just a hint of heat fluttering through his abdomen because Tadashi is _flirting_ with him. Tadashi wants, and Kei is happy to give.

 

There’s a moment where they’re just watching each other, eyes calculating like they haven’t already made this choice. Then Tadashi lets out a whimper that sounds too startled to be anything but genuine. “Kei,” Tadashi says, this breathy plea that has Kei’s head reeling with vivid imaginings: the two of them pressed together, Kei all calculated and intent as he makes Tadashi’s voice break on pleasure, the sound of Kei’s name chanted soft and then louder and louder into the cold air of Kei’s bedroom, Tadashi’s back arching up off Kei’s mattress and his fingernails scratching Kei’s back—

 

Or doing it in the morning, Tadashi soft and pliant in Kei’s ripped, too-big t-shirt, both of them hazy with sleep and half-dreaming as they tangle themselves together and fill themselves up on affection and sweetness and _—_

 

Kei presses his palm into the cushion beside Tadashi’s head and moves in. Tadashi’s legs fall open, and Kei moves up so he’s kneeling over Tadashi, their position so irrevocably not-innocent that Kei knows this is it; they’ve made their choice. Now or never.

 

Now.

 

“What do _you_ want, Tadashi?” Kei asks, overtaken. He’s not acting like himself, he knows, but it’s comfortable to slip into this role when it lights embers in his blood and has Tadashi trembling beneath him, and—

 

Who knew that getting Tadashi all shaky and agitated would be so gratifying?

 

Tadashi sits up a little so their faces are only a couple inches apart. Angles his chin up like he’s waiting for something.

 

“I thought I told you that you had to figure it out.”

 

“That was for your birthday,” Kei says. “And I did.”

 

“Are you sure about that?”

 

Kei lets his eyes rove all down Tadashi’s splayed-out frame again and then settles his gaze on Tadashi’s pink lips. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

 

Tadashi stares at him, hardly breathing. His eyes are half-lidded, mouth open around his uneven breaths. “Fuck, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, one hand coming up to rest on Kei’s collarbone, a barely-there touch that sparks electricity across Kei’s skin. There’s this pull in Kei’s stomach, the urge to move in closer, to press them flush together with every part of themselves they have, to hold Tadashi’s head into the crook of Kei’s neck while Tadashi clings to him and shudders, quaking and gasping a broken rhythm of _Tsukki, Tsukki—Ke-ii-ii—_

Kei rests his hand against the side of Tadashi’s neck, his thumb positioned just right to trace the line of Tadashi’s jaw. Tadashi’s breath is all heavy and shuddery now, and he can barely seem to keep his eyes open as he tries to focus on _something_ but can’t, and Kei moves a knee in between Tadashi’s legs and moves closer, closer, even though they’re still hardly touching at all. Tadashi’s hand comes up to grasp at Kei’s wrist, his narrow fingers holding Kei’s hand against the side of his ear, his cheek, and Kei ducks in a little closer and lets their breath mingle between them, Tadashi trembling a little and letting out this tiny whine that has Kei’s other hand flying to Tadashi’s hip and slipping up under his t-shirt, Tadashi’s skin all soft and hot.

 

“Tsukki,” Tadashi gasps, and Kei squeezes his thumb in right where he knows Tadashi is ticklish and watches the way Tadashi’s lips part on a gasp, a sound of disbelief and heat and unfettered desire. Kei can feel the way Tadashi’s abs tense, his thighs clenching to close his legs tight around Kei’s knee, and Kei watches as Tadashi opens his eyes to seek out Kei’s, his pupils blown black and his expression unfocused. Kei smirks a little and watches Tadashi shudder.

 

“What do you want, Tadashi?” Kei asks again, feeling his own blood warm on satisfaction even if he’s still not sure he’s feeling the desire quite the way Tadashi is. It doesn’t matter; Kei wants this, wants it _so much_ , and finally he’s going to get it.

 

Tadashi gasps. “Fuck, just—fuck, I—Tsukki, _Kei,_ come _on—_ ”

 

Their lips meet, and it’s not like Kei would have maybe expected, had he ever sat down to really think about this and to expect anything at all. They are strung taut from all the teasing, though, and it’s like a rubber band pulled and let go to snap sharp and stinging, the way their lips move firm and desperate together, the pace quick but deliberate, deep, certain. Tadashi is whimpering and tugging Kei in closer, and Kei lets himself fall into the gap of Tadashi’s open thighs and maneuvers them back so they’re lying down, which, okay, is kind of difficult so maybe it’s a good thing that Kei can keep something of a level head throughout this endeavor even if his blood is singing for him to make Tadashi feel so, _so good_. Tadashi is desperate beneath him, his arms around Kei’s neck and his legs locked against Kei’s waist even though they haven’t taken their clothes off, and Kei is trailing his lips away from Tadashi’s mouth to suck bruises into the pale skin of his throat, his collarbone, his shoulder. Tadashi holds Kei’s head against his skin and sighs, tugging at Kei’s hair a little—which is actually kind of nice, from a sensory standpoint—as he goes all pliant, contented and yet so _wanting_. Kei gives and gives and gives, because he wants to, and now he can.

 

“Kei,” Tadashi says after a few minutes of making out on the couch like teenagers even though they’re in their twenties now and by societal standards should be progressing towards something involving less clothing.

 

“Yeah?” Kei asks, because he remembers what Kuroo has said about consent and healthy sexual practices, and because Tadashi sounds a least a little bit more coherent and serious this time.

 

“Are you okay with this?” Tadashi asks, eyes still hazy and kind of fucked out even though they haven’t really done anything. Kei can’t wait to see what Tadashi looks like when he’s _actually_ coming down from the high of whatever pleasure Kei can possibly offer him.

 

“Yes,” Kei says, no hesitation. “If you want to stop and talk about it, we can. But I’m fine with this. I want this.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Okay. I trust you.”

 

That, for whatever reason, is the thing that has Kei’s breath stuttering in his throat, his hands going tight on Tadashi’s hips. “Fuck, say that again.”

 

Tadashi huffs something that’s almost a laugh, but then he tips Kei’s chin up so they’re making eye contact when he says, all breathy and devastated, “I trust you, Kei. _Kei._ ” Tadashi plays up the syllables like they’re something to be savored, and then Kei is falling into Tadashi and kissing him breathless, his hands desperate as they map out Tadashi’s freckled skin.

 

They somehow get up off the couch and make it into Kei’s bedroom. It’s easy to fall against the sheets together, to let Tadashi’s hands undress them both, to explore something Kei has never before seen fit to explore, Tadashi the guide as Kei thinks about how lucky he is to be a source of pleasure like this, and to receive some in return. It’s not how most people think about sexual intimacy, Kei knows, but there is no part of him that shies away or even hesitates.

 

It helps that they pause to have a talk about boundaries and consent before they do anything, but that part is somehow more intimate than anything else that happens, and Kei tucks the memory away like a secret, something he shares with Tadashi and will never divulge to anyone else because no one else deserves to know it. That part is only theirs.

 

Kei isn’t usually all that sentimental about memories. It’s weird, being in love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I just—I wish I weren’t so— _like this,_ ” Tadashi says, his expression cracked open and helpless. Kei regards him from his place in the bathroom doorway, the way Tadashi pinches at his stomach and traces a thumb across a jutting collarbone as if checking to make sure what he sees in the mirror isn’t lying to him about the truth of his existence, the fact of it or the details of how that existence looks. Kei thinks about pressing his hands against Tadashi’s ribcage the way Tadashi tends to really like, but physical comfort or even words of praise are not what Tadashi needs right now. The best Kei can do is to stand in the doorway of the bathroom and stay quiet while Tadashi contemplates.

 

The thing Tadashi doesn’t realize is that he is beautiful all the time. He is beautiful in the morning when he’s dancing around the kitchen with hickeys all down the pale skin of his neck. He’s beautiful when he’s lying on the floor listening to music through Kei’s kidnapped headphones and playing Animal Crossing on his phone. He’s beautiful when he gets a stomach bug and spends all night and half the next day on the bathroom floor, Kei holding him steady while he cries from how tired and sick he feels as he throws up until there’s nothing left and he’s just dry heaving. He’s beautiful when he’s furrowing his brow at the stubborn breakouts he still gets on occasion even though he’s 23 now and _dammit, Tsukki, this should have stopped by now!_ He’s beautiful when he’s still dozing in the early morning, head hardly poking out from under the blankets until Kei props him up against the headboard and coaxes him into eating something even though he’s still too drowsy to speak. He’s beautiful when he’s giggling late at night, showing Kei stupid memes and funny videos he found on the YouTubeHaiku subreddit. He’s beautiful when he’s singing karaoke in English, and in Japanese, and even sometimes in Korean because he really did go and learn all those phonemes.

 

Tadashi is beautiful when he’s staring at himself in the mirror, eyes roving too critically over thighs marked with the brown splotches of old burns, over hips subdivided by a latticework of white lines carved with the edge of a razor.

 

“Tsukki, am I crazy?” Tadashi asks, swallowing so hard that Kei can see the motion from where he’s standing a few feet away.

 

He shrugs. “No,” he says, because they’ve been through this about a thousand times now and Kei knows exactly where Tadashi is in the labyrinth that is his head, and Kei knows exactly how to lead him out.

 

As far as day to day life goes, Tadashi is doing well, all things considered. He still takes the edge of the iron to his skin on occasion, and Kei catches him sneaking a cigarette at least once a month and then chastises him for not just being honest about that particular coping mechanism, especially because Tadashi is incredibly up front about the other ones. But Kei can tell based on the particular shade of the red blots painting a Rorschach test across Tadashi’s thigh that those marks are only a couple weeks old, even if he can’t see any newer ones from where he’s standing. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

 

“Tadashi, are there any new ones?” Kei asks. Tadashi meets his eyes in the mirror.

 

“Is that how you can tell if I’m crazy?”

 

Kei shakes his head. “No. I’m just wondering.”

 

Tadashi nods. “Oh. There aren’t any new ones.”

 

“Okay,” Kei says, his acceptance easy. Tadashi doesn’t lie to him about any of this anymore. Except the cigarettes. But that’s actually weirdly cute.

 

Tadashi leans back with a sigh and turns away from the mirror, which is a good sign, because it means he’s okay. Kei lets out a sigh of relief that he doesn’t bother to hide. It’s easier for Kei to be honest about his feelings when Tadashi is perpetually and unfailingly truthful about his.

 

“I’m sorry, Kei,” Tadashi says. He must be serious if he’s using Kei’s real name. “I’m okay.”

 

Kei nods. “You want some coffee?”

 

Tadashi grins, perking up a little at the mention of his favorite morning ritual. “Yes! Oh my gosh, I just remembered that we bought that hot chocolate mix yesterday! I’m totally putting it in my coffee; it’s going to be so good!” And he’s skirting around Kei with a little twirl that makes Kei bite back a dopey grin at Tadashi’s earnest joy.

 

“Are you coming home for lunch today?” Kei asks as they enter the kitchen.

 

“Only if my manager is in a bad mood again. Otherwise I’ll just go to Lawson.”

 

Kei nods, working on the coffee while Tadashi pulls out the eggs and starts the rice cooker. “Okay.” Kei says. “Wait, did you want sugar in with the hot chocolate mix?”

 

“Eh, just let me do it,” Tadashi says, “Oh, but hold on, let me go put a shirt on or something. It’s so cold in here!”

 

Kei looks after him as he leans the kitchen, but that’s not surprising. Tsukishima Kei looks after Yamaguchi Tadashi all the time, both literally and figuratively. He counts himself lucky beyond all imagining that Tadashi does the same for him.

 

They are 23, and they’re done with undergrad, and Tadashi is a fiction editor, and Kei is a graduate student. They are somehow okay. Tadashi is singing in the bedroom.

 

Kei closes his eyes as he sips his coffee, content.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You could wake up one day and not love me anymore,” Tadashi says one morning while they’re eating melon bread for breakfast and sipping at their daily coffee. Tadashi twirls his fingers in his hair and looks out the window. “Will you paint my nails later?” He asks, completely non sequitur. It’s not a shocking request. Tadashi loves having his nails painted.

 

“Yeah, what color?” Kei asks. He backtracks to the first thing Tadashi had said. “I won’t wake up and not love you.”

 

“Light purple. Like, violet,” Tadashi says, studying his nails intently for a minute before he looks up at Kei, his expression calm. “I read a thing about that once. Someone wrote about it online. Something about the different people you love in life, like your first love, your soul mate, and then one of them was the one you go to sleep in love with and wake up not in love with them.”

 

“It’s impossible,” Kei says. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you. I don’t want to do anything without you.” He says it like a fact because it is. His voice is so disinterested that even Kageyama might not accuse him of being sappy for having said it.

 

Tadashi looks at him. “I could wake up one day and not love you anymore.”

 

“You won’t.”

 

“But how do you know? I mean—that just seems like it would be the fair thing for the universe to do to us, you know? Because everyone else is a mess in their relationships, and we’re just…not.”

 

Now that Tadashi has mentioned it, Kei realizes he’s kind of right. In the past couple of years, their friends have seen their fair share of relationship tribulations. Hinata had dated that abusive asshole who had forbidden him from being friends with Tadashi, and according to Tadashi, he’s still pretty fucked up over it. Suga and Daichi have been doing long-distance for more than the originally expected year now, and they’re both suffering for it, based on what Suga has told Tadashi. Asahi-san and Noya are still dancing around each other and trying to date other people even though they’re both very obviously only interested in each other. Hell, Kei has even heard through the grapevine at Tohoku that Oikawa and Iwaizumi, Aoba Johsai’s most talented power couple and childhood best friends, are on some sort of “break” because Oikawa suddenly got the urge to run away from everything, including his other half and his home country. The last Kei heard, Oikawa had fucked off to America, and Iwaizumi is just waiting around in Japan for Oikawa to change his mind and come back.

 

But Kei and Tadashi have held tight.

 

“It won’t happen. Just because we’re in a happy, healthy, committed relationship doesn’t mean we’re not given our fair share of challenges.”

 

Tadashi looks suddenly stricken. “I—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Tsukki, I—”

 

“Why are you apologizing?”

 

Tadashi bites his lip. It’s a habit he’s had for years, his tendency to tug at the fragile skin there when he’s nervous or thinking or even just bored. Kei always chastises himself a little for how much he likes it. “It’s all my fault,” Tadashi says. “I’m the one who’s crazy.”

 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Kei says, and it comes as such an out-of-nowhere throwback that Tadashi is startled into a laugh. “I’m the one who still has to be forced to eat sometimes because I get upset. And no matter what we go through that’s not technically part of our relationship, it doesn’t matter, because I’m going to wake up in the morning and love you, and you’ll love me.”

 

“It sounds so easy when you say it like that, Tsukki.”

 

Kei shrugs. “It is pretty easy. You make everything easier.”

 

Tadashi nods. “You make things easier, too. You’re my best friend.”

 

“Nothing will change that.” Kei stands up and presses a soft kiss to Tadashi’s forehead, inhaling against the strands of thick brown hair sticking up a little because Tadashi hasn’t brushed it yet. He rests a hand against the back of Tadashi’s neck and closes his eyes, and his heart pounds hard in his chest because even after more than a year, it’s still so overwhelming that he’s allowed to have this.

 

Kei inhales again the soft scent of Tadashi’s hair and tries to push back the onslaught of emotion. He is irrevocably in love. He is so gone for Yamaguchi Tadashi that he feels breathless with it. In the morning, in the afternoon. When he wakes up in the middle of the night pressed against his best friend, his lover, his obsession, Tadashi safe in his arms and breathing softly while Kei’s head spins with gratitude that he gets to keep Tadashi with him. He feels it when they’re at the grocery store, or when they’re shopping downtown, or when they’re at the museum and Tadashi wants to spend an extra hour at the dinosaur exhibit because he knows Kei likes it.

 

Tadashi grins up at him. “So? Are you painting my nails or not?”

 

Kei nods and pulls Tadashi into the bathroom. As it turns out, Tadashi’s fingernails do look beautiful in violet.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
